


That First Weekend

by mickeym



Series: Randy and Michael [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Barebacking, Graphic Sex, M/M, Romance, Unsafe Sex, randy and michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-08-05
Updated: 1998-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to last as long as it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That First Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Pierson (Linda).

 

Randy:         //We made the trip back to your apartment fairly quickly, and I noted with a bit of amusement that we never stopped touching each other, either. Your hand stroking or petting my thigh; my free hand touching whichever part of you was the handiest at the moment. Neither one of us made any real effort to *talk*; the quiet was easy, comfortable, with the radio on in the background. You didn't seem to mind the country station, nodding you head occasionally in time with the music, and I caught myself relaxing enough to sing softly with one of the songs. I didn't even notice it until I caught you grinning at me, and realized what I was doing. I winked at you and drawled 'darlin'', getting an even bigger grin from you.

I was a little taken aback when you directed me to the Marina Towers apartments; I guess for two reasons. It's hard to picture you living in an apartment--no matter how nice, and they are really nice apartments. I was there once, several years before, when a friend of a friend, and so on, had had their wedding reception there. Into the parking area--gated, security-guard access only--and into a parking space on the third level marked 'Penthouse'. Oh, man. I follow you, wondering what I've gotten myself into, and not caring much.//

Michael:       //I pull the keycard from my pocket and give it a swipe through the lock, then punch in my number. A small beep, and then I turn the handle, opening the door to allow you to go in before me. You brush by me, and the heat of your body is tangible. Your scent trails after you, mixed with mine, and the unmistakable one of loving. It's addictive, and I want more of it. You stop in the foyer, and I close the door behind us, pocketing the card, and coming up close enough to you to press a kiss to the back of your neck.// Welcome to my home, Caro.

Randy:         //its cool inside, but more of an artificial cool than the air outside. I shiver and press back against you, my body, my mind, all of me crying out for more of you, for all of you.// Thanks for inviting me, Michael. Looks pretty user-friendly in here. How long have you been here? //I want to look around, but I don't want to move; I'm entirely comfortable right where I'm at, close to you//

Michael:       //I guess it is nice; I've scarcely noticed. The apartment is the epitome of California casual, all pastels and comfortable, overstuffed furniture. Erich picked it out for me, simply because of its proximity to the office. I spend so little actual time here; its simply someplace to sleep.// Five years, I think. More-or-less. //You lean against me, and my arm slides naturally around your waist, snugging you into my body. I press another kiss to the side of your neck, just beneath your ear.// Would you care for something to drink? I'm not certain about you, but I'm parched...

Randy:         //I let out a sigh and turn my face to meet your lips for a brief, but delicious kiss.// Orange juice, if you have it, or water's fine if you don't. //You let go, reluctantly, if I can judge from the slow way you pull you arm away, and head for the kitchen, right off the foyer. I wander over to the large window on the far wall, and look out// You've got a fantastic view of the bay, Michael. Or, //I grin self-deprecatingly// you would if it was daylight and I could see anything.

Michael:       Yes, it is quite lovely. I've sat and watched the sun set, and it is very peaceful. //I shed my jacket on one of the dining room chairs on the way to the kitchen. Looking down, I realize my shirt is mis-buttoned; no wonder Morrison, the security chief, looked at us askance when we came in. Rumpled, wrinkled, hair tossed about...we look debauched. I glance back at you. It's a decidedly good look for you; you're a completely sensual creature, comfortable with yourself, and I wish I had such ease. Your mouth is noticeably swollen, as is mine, and anyone just looking at you...at both of us, could not mistake what had occurred. I touch my own mouth, and smile, before turning to the refrigerator and pulling out the orange juice, then to the cabinet for two glasses. I am parched...coming twice, so close together, has drained me. Warmth sweeps over me at the memory of you pressed so closely in the most intimate of embraces, and I want to feel you against me again, naked, warm, willing, but in a soft bed, not the hardness of the truck. Though there is the sweet cachet of wild, impulsive sex outdoors...I move back to you, drawn again, and offer you the glass.//

Randy:         Thanks. //I let my eyes roam over you as I take the glass, and chug down half of it almost before you've let go. You're standing there, watching me, an amused expression on your face and I grin, shrugging. I let my eyes wander further down, and my grin gets wider// We're a mess. You've mis-buttoned.

Michael:       Well, yes, but you've gotten dirty. //I brush at a smudge of dirt, obvious against the light color of your sweater. I can feel your stomach muscles shiver a little in response to my touch, and I let my fingers linger, turning the casual touch into a caress.// Would you like to...get cleaned up a bit? //The thought of you naked, beneath the shower's spray, is a powerful one, and my voice deepens a little in response. Wordlessly, I take our now-empty glasses and set them on the table, next to my jacket before returning to stand close to you.//

Randy:         //I let my hand touch you and slide slowly, teasingly down your chest and stomach, then around your waist. I give your ass a gentle squeeze.// Will you let me wash your -- back?

Michael:       You may wash anything that needs washing. I'm sure I need to be thoroughly cleansed. Good personal hygiene is very important. //I grin, teasing, relaxed; how long has it been since I felt so at ease with anyone? Longer than I care to remember. It feels as if I've known you forever.//

Randy:         //I move a little closer and settle both of my hands on your ass, each index finger rubbing slowly up and down your cleft through your pants, teasing lightly. I lower my head to your neck and lick, lightly at first, then with broad, sure strokes, whispering in between them// I'll clean you up good, lover. We can start with this...I'll tongue-bathe you...get you ready for the next level. //I let my tongue slide slowly and sensuously over your neck and throat, darting and flickering over the hollow of your throat, and the pulse point just above it. My hands continue to knead your ass, fingers dipping and sliding.//

Michael:       Ahh...//I tilt my head back to enjoy the warmth of your tongue stroking over my skin, and shiver in delight. Your hands kneading my ass, stroking sensitive skin between, are wonderful, and I push into the touch, only to have you press your groin hard against mine. I can feel your arousal beneath the snugness of your jeans, and it sends a jolt of heat through me.// Shower now, or shower later? //I start tugging at the hem of your sweater; I don't really care, as long as I can press against you, feel your warmth next to me.//

Randy:         //I let you pull my sweater off, then take a reluctant step backward, running my hands down your chest.// Now, I guess. We both stink to high heaven. //I make a face at you, then wink and pull your top button open.// Wanna strip out here, or in the bathroom?

Michael:       //With a wicked grin, I give the sweater an indifferent toss, and reach to unbutton your jeans. You give me an answering grin, and in moments, we're both naked, clothing tossed in abandon over the immaculate floor of my apartment. Boots and shoes end up on chairs, beneath tables, one of my socks decorating a lampshade. Now I get to watch the sexy flow of muscles as you tug me in the general direction of my bath.//

Randy:         //I look back at you over my shoulder, grinning.// You wouldn't be taking unfair advantage of my naked self to·ogle, or anything, would you? And am I going in the right direction? //I feel playful. Happy. Tired and dehydrated as shit; I think I could drink another gallon of juice--the one glass only made me more aware of how thirsty I am. But my belly and thighs are starting to itch, too, and I can't decide which is overpowering the other.// 

Michael:       Of course I'd be taking advantage--I'm a Pierson, and that's what we do best. //I take over the lead, and dance out of the way as you aim a slap at my bare bum. Laughing, I tug you through my bedroom, and into the huge, decadently-appointed bath that adjoins it. I can scarcely wait to get beneath the water--I'm messy, tired, and my muscles ache from the unaccustomed exercise.// 

Randy:         //It takes you just a minute or so to get towels out for us while I fiddle with the water controls, and I find myself thinking this is a very nice way to wrap up what's been a rather stressful two or three weeks. I haven't felt this relaxed or unwound in a long time--even before the series of experiments that consumed me recently. When we're both beneath the hot water I lean back against the shower wall and pull you close, my lips pressed against your ear.// Wanna see what you taste like under the water, darlin'. //I lick over your ear, then kiss across your neck to your mouth. Your lips are already open, waiting, and I can't stop the breathless laugh just before I kiss you. I'm glad to see its not just me who's obviously gone crazy here.// 

Michael:       //I try and keep it light; I'm too tired to keep up with you if you ignite again. I pull away, then press a quick kiss on your chin.// So am I palatable? //I fumble for the soap and sponge, lathering it up and running it over your shoulders and arms.//

Randy:         //I grin, reaching to take the soap from you. Hands will work just as well, in lieu of a second sponge.// You're delicious, actually. We'll have to try this again sometime when we're both not about to pass out from exhaustion, I think. //I want to go again; I probably could, once I rest for a few minutes. But I don't want the fast, frenzied coupling like we just had; when we make love again--or for the first time, since what we did on the beach a little while ago hardly counts as that--I want it in the bed, slow and easy. Or at least with a slow, easy build-up and no feeling of needing to rush.// You sure--about me staying the night? 

Michael:       //I move the sponge over your chest, and down your firm belly, nice slow circles that leave a mass of foamy bubbles in its wake. Down further, to gently wash your heavy genitals. I don't think it would take much to get you going again, but later, later.// Oh, yes, I'm very certain about that. //It's been forever since I've had anyone stay over, and I'm looking forward to waking up curled around you.// 

Randy:         Good. I'm--looking forward to waking up with you. //I give you a grin, and press a quick kiss on your belly as I kneel down to wash you thoroughly.// Be nice to see what you look like in the daylight, Pierson. //You laugh and shift, letting me have better access to clean you. I make a face when I look up at you, crossing my eyes.// Sure, go on and laugh. How do I know you're not gonna scare me shitless, huh? Never can tell what a guy's gonna morph into when the sun hits him. //I stand back up and shift from under the spray to let you rinse off, leaning against the wall, just enjoying the feel of the spray catching me from around you, and the closeness of another body.// 

Michael:       Promise you won't yell in terror when you see the gray hair and wrinkles, and we'll be just fine. //I step back out of the spray, then turn you gently so I can wash your back. You lean into the wall on your hands, spreading your legs for me. I like watching the soap run down the strong planes of your back, watching the water sheet off, glazing your skin. You're bigger, stronger, and I find that very attractive, very different from my own leanness. I make myself go more gently as I slip between the cheeks of your ass, cleaning away the signs of our passion. I know you must be tender--I wasn't gentle. I lean up and press my lips to the back of your neck.// Sore, Randy? 

Randy:         Not as sore as you'd probably think. //I grin, even though you can't see it, and press back a little bit, loving the way you feel against me.// I, uh, practice some. //I shiver when you kiss me again before pulling back to let the water rinse me down.// As far as yelling in terror·no promises, man. But--//I turn my head to watch you; your eyes are very expressive--darkening and lighening up.//--I gotta tell you, darlin', I didn't, um, feel any wrinkles anywhere·and I like gray hair. 

Michael:       //Practice? That sounds·interesting, and like something I might want to pursue at a later time. I appreciate an adventurous spirit, one to match my own.// Good--I'm glad you're not tender, because I really want to be inside you again in the morning.

Randy:         //Funny, the way my stomach tightens up at the thought of 'in the morning'. Among other parts of me. I sigh and will it to go down, ignoring your raised eyebrow when we get out of the shower. You yelp once when I bend over and shake the excess water out of my hair, hitting you with some rather cool droplets. When I stand up straight again you have a towel in hand for me, and I take it gratefully. I forget sometimes how quickly it can cool off here, even in the summertime.// I have to say that's the best incentive I've had for getting up in the morning that I've had in a long time, Michael. //I arch an eyebrow at you, shooting you a wicked grin.// Do I get breakfast in bed?

Michael:       I can promise a protein drink for the morning, I believe. //You make a face at the bad pun, and I laugh and wrap the towel around me. At the sink, I find a new toothbrush for you, and brush my own teeth as you dry off. As you brush your own, I wander back into the bedroom, and pull down the covers and plump the pillows for us. It will feel so good to slide in, but better to hold you close and soak up your warmth.//

Randy:         //I take a quick detour back out to the kitchen and pull another glass out of the cabinet you'd taken them from earlier. Not like my apartment, with its hodge-podge assortment of plastic tumblers from this football game, or that pool place. You have a neatly ordered kitchen--and I laugh, because it's kind of nice. I drink down about three glasses of water standing in front of the sink before filling it once more and carrying it back into the bedroom. You're folding up your towel, and I stand in the doorway for a minute, silently admiring the view, before drawling in an exaggerated accent,// I think it's catchin', darlin'·this takin' advantage. You've got a nice ass yourself. //The bed looks--great. I think it would regardless, as tired as I am, but knowing I'm going to get to sleep curled up with you·Well, that only adds to the appeal.//

Michael:       //I turn around, and grin. When you come within reach, I whip off your towel and fling it in the general direction of the bath. You offer me the glass, and as I drink it down, you slip into my bed with a deep, satisfied sigh. You look good in my bed, stretching cat-like before settling down into the covers. Setting the glass down on the bedside table, I slip down beside you, moving to curl around you.// Ahhh·very nice·.

Randy:         God, yeah. //I shift onto my side and snug back against you, planting my ass firmly into your groin, and encouraging your arm to wrap around my waist. I thread the fingers of one hand through yours and squeeze lightly. I'm so tired suddenly that it's an effort to keep my eyes open, and after a minute I stop trying. You let go of my hand for a minute and reach above us to turn off the lamp, then settle yourself tightly against me, fingers twining again.// Thanks, for inviting me·this is nice· G'night, darlin'·

Michael:       //I smile against the back of your neck. You fit well against me, and you're so warm. So alive; I can almost feel the hum of your life-energy pulsing, beckoning to me. I feel drawn to you, like a moth to flame. With a sigh, I let the tiredness wash over me, and give into it.// I'm glad you decided to stay, Randy. Truly glad.

Randy:         Me, too. //I exhale, and smile when I feel you do the same thing at about the same time. You're warm against me, and it feels so--right--to be held again. I let your warmth wrap around me, and give in to the desire to drift off. I can hear your breathing slowing down behind me, and smile when you whisper something unintelligible against my neck.//

 

*********************************

 

Randy:         //Something's hammering away at my subconscious, poking at me to wake up. I don't want to; I'm warm, and very comfortable. I have to go to the bathroom...that's what it is. My bladder's poking me. I shift a little, trying to wake up enough to roll out of bed, and feel a little disoriented when I finally crack my eye open. This isn't my apartment. This isn't my bed. I shift again and realize I'm hugging tightly on to ...you. Michael. Everything from last night comes flooding back and I feel a slow, lazy grin spread over my face as I remember where I am, and what transpired. I stroke my hand lightly over your forehead, pushing back a lock of hair that's fallen across it, and think about how good you made me feel last night -- not just physically, but all over. Like a balm on my soul. Meeting you yesterday was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Okay, bathroom. I shift again, hoping I can get up without disturbing you, and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, waking up enough to remember which door is the bathroom. I stretch, getting up, feeling very comfortable here. A large pool of sunlight is splashing over the carpet and I look for a clock wondering what time it is. What year it is. I haven't slept this well in...Christ. A long time. You roll over and mumble something I can't understand and I smile, thinking how beautiful you are. Time to move, before I have an accident I can't explain. By the time I get out of the bathroom you're lying there blinking, awake, but not fully. I settle myself on the bed next to you, propping up on one elbow, and give you a big grin.// Morning, darlin'. Sleep well?

Michael:       //I blink, sleepily, my brain still fuzzy, not online yet. I'm warm, wrapped in sheets and a sense of contentment, of rightness. When your weight settles in, and your face appears above me, I have a moment's confusion; I can't reconcile being in bed and having someone with me, body warm and naked beside me. Then you smile, and it's like a sunrise. Yesterday comes back to me like an epiphany, and I feel myself smiling back, the lazy, smug smile of a man quite thoroughly loved and satisfied. I go into a full stretch, arms and legs all directions, arching upward. I'm a bit sore in various places; it's been so long since I've been with anyone, I've forgotten how certain muscles react. But its a good ache, and without a doubt, I'd like to feel it again.// Morning...//My voice is husky with sleep, and I clear my throat before trying again// Yes...wonderfully well, and I hope you slept well, too. 

Randy:         Best sleep I've had in ages. //I reach out for you, figuring I've gone nearly twelve hours without consciously touching you--and I'm in danger of withdrawal. My hand strokes down your chest and rubs your belly, then slides back up to curl gently around your neck, massaging the tight muscles there and in your shoulder. You've got the most beautiful, satisfied smile on your face...// You look like a cat that's been to cream, Michael. Kinda--smug. //I grin.// It looks good on you. //I lean in and kiss you once, quickly, then whisper against your mouth,// Wanna make that look stay there for a while?

Michael:       //I look like the cat that's been to cream? I should; the thought sends amusement and a little curl of excitement through me. And I'd like more. I feel my smile turn from contented to wicked in the space of an eyeblink as erotic possibilities flash through my mind. It's Saturday, still morning, if the light on the carpet is any indication, and though I have things to do, I decide to chuck them all out, and just...live.// Ah, Caro...that sounds like a distinct possibility...

Randy:         //I watch your eyes darken a little with your response, and wiggle against the other part of you that's waking up and taking interest. // More than distinct, darlin'. //I reach out and caress your arm, touching you gently, but firmly.// You made me a promise last night that you're not gonna break. Remember? //I move my mouth to your ear and lick your earlobe before whispering,// That really great incentive to get me *up* this morning?

Michael:       //I grin; I most certainly remember an offer of 'breakfast in bed.' It takes only a heartbeat to roll you beneath me and claim your mouth, my fingers twining through yours, holding you down as I taste you, thoroughly and completely. I love the soft sounds I hear coming from your throat, and I move against you, a slow, gentle rocking that makes my whole body come alive and sing with pleasure. I catch myself getting rougher, and rein myself in--slow, I want slow, and sweet.//

Randy:         //I'm not sure where it came from, but a deep hunger for you spills over me, warming me all the way through. I shiver and open my mouth for your kisses; they're long, deep, almost drugging in their intensity. You're rocking against me, slowly, letting our bodies set the rhythm, and I shift so you're between my legs, and I can wrap mine around yours, pulling us closer together. I groan when you release my mouth; I think I could kiss you forever.// Feels good, Michael· I want you, darlin'. Again, and again, as often as you want it, babe...buried inside me, fucking me· //I lick your throat, then kiss the underside of your jaw. I want it slow and easy; I want it fast and hard, and I'm fighting myself for a little restraint. //  

Michael:       //Your low voice sends a shiver of anticipation through me, and I feel myself bloom into full arousal. I release my grip on your hands, and slide them over your shoulders, and down your chest. As I suck on the base of your throat, feeling your pulse pound against my tongue, I pinch the little buds of your nipples lightly between my fingers and thumbs, and you jerk hard against me, a breathy moan my reward. I slip my hands down over your belly, loving the feel of smooth, hairless skin, to encircle you as I lap at the hard pebble of your nipple. You're already hard, and I stroke you until your moans are almost continuous, until you start to get wet and slick for me. I twist out of the grip of your thighs, moving down to tongue the sweet little depression of your navel, feeling you squirm and wiggle beneath me.//

Randy:         Jesus·ohgod, Michael· //You're teasing my navel, making shallow little fucking motions with your tongue, and I can feel the breath catching in my chest as I try to go with the sensations. Your mouth is hot and wet when you stop and suck for a moment, making me jerk like you just scalded me. Maybe you did. I want to touch you so bad it's nearly a physical ache, but because of the way we're lying, I can't, as long as you're on me like this. Nothing beyond stroking your hair and maybe your shoulders. I thread my fingers through your hair, not sure if I want to grip it to pull you back up to my mouth, or push you down to my cock. I keep thinking of how it would feel, your mouth on me, sucking me 'til I come, and just the thought is enough to make me throb harder against you.// Wanna taste you·want you to fuck me· Jesus, god, Michael· want it all·

 

Michael:       //Oh, it feels good, almost indecently so, to have you rock against me, to feel your busy fingers stroking and caressing, sending little jolts down in an electrical buzz straight to my groin. I lick and suck the soft skin all around your cock and balls, avoiding the very place you want my mouth, giving myself wholly over to the sweetness of having you tightly against me. You smell clean and musky with arousal, and taste so good. It's so easy to lose myself in you, in the pleasure of your body, your response, to let everything else just slip away. Your hands move from my hair, back up to my shoulders, restless. Finally, I've had enough of teasing you, and wrapping my fingers around you, suck you in deeply, taking you as far in as I possibly can. I'm aware of the strangled sound that comes from you, but the taste, the silky feel of your skin against my tongue is all I care to acknowledge, and I give into the pleasure of sucking you for long moments. I love the way you move with me, shallow thrusts that I can control.

Eventually, I feel a curious prickling sensation on the back of my neck, and a sound penetrates my fogged senses. A sound that should not be here, in this room, with us. A sound of surprise. I pull away from your hard, red cock , and force myself to look up, blinking, trying to clear my head. What I see makes the blood chill in my veins. In the doorway, two figures, one middling height, with blond hair, the other, behind him, taller, with silver. It takes another second for that information to process, to realize that we're not alone, and yet another to figure out who they are. My eyes narrow, and before I realize it, the words are out of my mouth, growled in a voice deeper than normal.// What the fuck do you think you're doing here?

Randy:         //I can't process anything, at first, beyond the fact that you've stopped sucking me, and you're growling at *someone*. Awareness penetrates after a moment, and some sort of primitive response to danger flares inside me. I shift upward, coming nearly off the bed when I see two men standing beside the door, one looking horribly embarrassed, the other glowering at us--at me. I don't have a clue who they are, or how they got here. I do know that you seem to know them--but can't make my brain work enough to process why someone else would have a key to your place. You're shaking against me, and I realize then just what exactly they saw--and I see red. It takes a great deal of effort to push that anger down to manageable levels, and I spend the time breathing against the skin of your throat.// Michael--what's going on?

Michael:       //I can feel myself shake with rage. I push off of your body, snatching at the sheet to cover the both of us. Erich doesn't look shocked, more angry, his blue eyes snapping, his color high. Miles, behind him, simply looks embarrassed, and flees back into the living room. "I'd like a word with you, 'Sir,' at your convenience," Erich replies, his accent even heavier, almost too thick to understand clearly. He turns on his heel abruptly, and follows Miles. I take a deep breath, then fling myself out of bed, covers flying. I storm into the bath, grab my robe, and throw it over myself, belting it tightly. I'm angrier than I've been in years, and embarrassed---not of you, but for you, to be caught in such an intimate moment.// I work with them. One is my manservant, the other my assistant. //I wonder if its possible to crack the enamel on my teeth; I can feel the muscles in my jaw clench hard.// I'll be back in just a moment, Randy.

Randy:         //I nod dumbly, not sure what to say--if indeed, I'm supposed to say anything. Assistant? In your house? What's up with that? Karen has my pager number, my phone number; she's never had a key to my place, nor been in it. What sort of fella is this assistant of yours, that he thinks he can just come into your private space...? I realize my fists are clenching, I'm that angry. That brings a bark of laughter up--anger is actually a mild term for whatever it is I'm feeling right now. A lot of emotions--embarrassment, humiliation, confusion, anger. I give you one more quick kiss on the lips, then watch you stalk into the living room. I wait for a minute before getting out of bed, my body aching with unresolved sexual tension. I'm not aroused any longer, but the hunger that was roused isn't assuaged, either. I get out of bed when I realize I can hear you, and that I'm not real comfortable with that. There isn't anywhere to go, though, that I'm not going to hear, so I tuck the blanket and sheet around me and practice breathing slow and even, trying to clear my head.//

 

Michael:       //I know it can't be good to be this angry, and I pause to take a deep breath and let it out before I open the bedroom door. The shock must have been as incredible for you as for me, but you didn't say a word, though I could feel you fairly vibrating with anger. I pull the door partially closed behind me to give you some privacy. Silence settles over the three of us. Miles is at the window, ostensibly looking out over the early morning, his back ramrod straight: I can see how red his ears are, even from here. Erich stands at the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, looking as aggressive as I feel. I strike a similar pose midway between the two of them, offering nothing.// And what the bloody fucking hell do you think you're doing, invading my privacy like this? //I seldom yell, and I don't now; I've always found a quiet voice to be much more threatening and effective.

 

Erich's head snaps up, and frowning, he takes up the challenge without delay. "What the hell were you thinking about, disappearing like that, turning off your pager? I couldn't find a trace of you--not a trace. Miles hadn't seen you. No one had seen you go. We searched the building. We searched the grounds. We came here, looking for you. Not a single clue as to where you had gone." He drew a deep breath, and I started to interrupt, but he rode over me like a German tank. "We searched *everywhere.* For God's sake, man, we thought you'd been kidnapped!" I shut my mouth with a snap, trying to work on control. I knew he was right; I knew now, in the cold light of day that was the logical assumption he would make. People in my position, with my responsibilities, simply do not disappear without reason. I took another deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, torn between the fierce anger I still feel, the sense of humiliation at being caught in an intimate moment, and the sense that somehow, he is justified in his own anger.//

Randy:         //I feel my anger edge up another notch; I can't help but hear. You didn't shut the door all the way, and even if I was deaf, I'd probably hear this assistant of yours. I can't imagine speaking to an employer that way. I can't imagine *Karen* speaking to *me* that way. She's been angry with me; happy, glad, upset...but she's never addressed me like this. I have to take a couple slow, deep breaths, pushing back again the urge to get up and *do* something. I'm still burning with all the emotions sparked by their appearance--and I know that's coloring my reactions. The man speaking--presumably your assistant--has a thick German accent, made thicker by his emotion. If I didn't know better, I'd say he sounded almost...jealous·like a man whose lover had been missing, not his employer. I'm sure I can't be reading that correctly. I shrug and get off the bed finally, to move about and look for my clothes, before I remember they're strewn around the living room.//

Michael:       //No matter what the reasoning, I'm still angry, especially as I see our clothes and boots scattered about the room, thrown every which way.// So you come barging into my room without a thought I might have someone with me? You can see these clothes on the floor--rather impossible to miss, yes? Did you not stop one moment to think I might have company? Did you not think that I might want to live life like a normal man, and not in this·this insulated cocoon in which I'm caught? I *have* no opportunity to actually live without being under scrutiny every moment. And if I break away to steal one moment for myself, you have the guard out searching for me. This is no better than imprisonment. //I stop to take a deep breath. I realize I'm not addressing their worry, and the justification for it, but I don't give a damn right now. I'll deal with it later, when I'm not so angry. Erich looks unabashed, but the straight line of Miles' back is a bit slumped. I bite my tongue to keep from saying more, hurtful things that I know I'll regret.// Now that you know that I'm fine, I'd appreciate some time alone. //Erich takes a deep breath; he's still angry, his pale eyes still snapping, probably as much as my own. "You will get your privacy, Sir, now that we know you are safe." His eyes shift to the half-closed door. "You *are* safe, are you not?" Half a dozen angry retorts come to mind, but I force them back down. I just want them the fuck out of my apartment, out of my sight, and I bite off each word sharply as I speak.// I am quite safe. Leave now, and I shall see you Monday morning. I think we have much to discuss then.

Randy:         //I'm torn between being angry for you, for us, and just pissed off in general. Who in the hell *is* this person? Okay--so you're a CEO. You are entitled to a life...and companionship... You're entitled to having a chance to have some quiet, private time without having to check in with someone. Jesus, he sounds like your keeper, rather than an employee. I have to forcibly unclench my fists, and concentrate on doing some stretching exercises instead, for something to do. I don't like this guy. I don't like the proprietary air he has about you, and what I hear in his voice, nor the way he's addressing you. By the time I tune in again, away from my anger, I can hear the chill in your voice. I'm not surprised to hear the door shut with perhaps more force than was necessary, and only then do I breathe a sigh of relief that they're gone.//

Michael:       //I glare at the door for a long moment after Erich closes it, and thrust my hands in my robe pockets, working on regaining equilibrium. I have a reputation for fierce temper, but in truth, it's primarily that--a reputation, and I have little need to actually let it out. Striding to the window, stepping over discarded clothing, I stare out at the view of the Bay. I'm angry, yes, but within me is a tiny curl of guilt; yes, I worried them. Erich looked as if he'd been up all night, and Miles had dark circles beneath his brown eyes. Somewhere, there must be a happy medium where I can live like anyone else.//

Randy:         //I wait for a minute or two after I hear the door close, then wrap a towel around my waist and step out cautiously from the bedroom. You're staring out the window with a very pensive look on your face. I can still see the tense set of your shoulders; the anger is very much in place, but not quite as pronounced. At least it's not crackling along you like before. I cover the space between bedroom and window quickly, and stand behind you, reaching up to rub your shoulders slowly, kneading away some of the tension. I wait for several minutes before saying anything, letting you relax under my hands. Then I keep my voice very quiet, easy going.// You all right, Michael? Anything I can do?

Michael:       //I stir a little at your touch, big hands warm on my shoulders and back. I feel some of the anger bleed out, and breathe out a bit more.// Yes, I'm fine, really. Just a bit...angry. Guilty. Embarrassed. Several things. None of which //I turn my head back toward you, and rub your forearm// involves you. I'm just·sorry you were caught up in it like that.

Randy:         Well· //I feel a smile pull up from somewhere, and lean in closer, fitting myself against your back, settling my chin on your shoulder.// I have to say that it wasn't the most pleasant thing I've ever experienced·but I expect I'll live. No permanent damage done, y'know. But--it does involve me, darlin'. At least a little. //Damn. I guess I'm still upset, because the twang is out in full force. I sigh and wrap my arms tighter across your chest, bringing you closer.// How long's he worked for you?

Michael:       Erich? Ten years. Miles? My entire life. //I let myself lean back into your embrace, and it feels good to relax into your strength. You're so warm, even through the thickness of the robe. // Erich...is so entwined in my life that he scarcely feels like an employee. It's the same with Miles. He chose to come with me to America, to leave England behind. //I don't take my gaze from the window, and I can see you, ghostlike, reflected in the glass, and see my own mouth pull down into a frown.// I know they feared the worst when they couldn't find me, but still yet, I feel sometimes as if I'm suffocating. And it's my own fault; I've allowed myself to be wrapped in all this protective cotton·.

 

Randy:         //I turn you around and pull you close to me, wrapping my arms across your back, settling you against my chest. Your arms go around my waist, and for a moment we just stand there, holding each other. Erich. I taste the name in my mind and shake my head. More than an employee, yes. But probably not as much in your life as I suspect he'd like to be.// I think--the lines for Erich are more blurred for him than even for you, darlin'.

Michael:       //The thought is a new one; I'd never thought of Erich in that manner. I turn the thought over in my mind, poking at it, examining it from several angles, but I can't reconcile it; I've never had any feelings like that toward him, and his actions, while sometimes a bit impetuous, have never been more than strictly formal with me. Haven't they? I shake my head. // I'm certain you're seeing things. But it doesn't matter, now. //The mood we'd had is broken, and I can still feel residual anger; I'd rather not take a chance on taking it out on you. Perhaps later·no, definitely later, I'll want to pick back up where we left off. I can feel my face warm a bit as I think back to the picture we must have presented; naked, with your legs spread wantonly, thrashing and moaning, with my head buried in your groin. I shake my head minutely, but the image lingers in my mind's eye.//

Randy:         //I'm not so certain that I'm seeing things; I've heard that worried tone before, from a man who loved me, and that I cared for, but never could love. Now there's a shock; I hadn't thought of Brandon in ages. But it was the same sort of tone I'd heard him use when I'd stayed at the library for too long, or had stepped out while he was asleep. I shake my head and lean to press a kiss against your neck before shifting back just a fraction.// How 'bout we get somethin' to eat? Maybe--get outta here for a while, let things--settle. //Much as I wanted you earlier, I don't think I could pick it back up right now; the interruption was too abrupt, too embarrassing. I don't even want to think about what they saw or heard· No. I give you a shaky grin.// There's a bagel place not far from here that has the most incredible chocolate chip bagels. And jalapeno cream cheese that's out of this world. Or--I don't know. There's a great place across the bridge that does a buffet-type spread on the weekends? //I haven't moved my hands away yet; whatever else I'm feeling, I want to keep touching you--I'm finding you're very addicting to me.//

Michael:       //I shudder, but it's not from the feel of your lips against my neck, though that is undeniably wonderful.// Please, Randy, tell me you don't eat those two together...

 

Randy:         //That was the tension release I needed. The horrified tone in your voice·the look on your face· I throw my head back and laugh, then squeeze you once before letting you go, and bending down to retrieve my jeans. It takes me a minute to get the laughter down to just occasional hiccups so I can reply.// No...No, man. I actually don't eat anything on the chocolate chip bagels--they're great just as they are. I eat the jalapeno stuff on plain or onion bagels. //I choke down some more laughter and pick up my sweater, grimacing when I get a good look at my clothing.// I have an idea, Michael. Let's get some bagels, and take 'em to my place--so I can get some clean clothes. No way I'm gonna be able to wear these again today.

Michael:       //I watch your nose wrinkle in distaste, and even I can see they're unfit to wear, stiff with dried come. // Your clothes aren't very presentable, are they, Randy? Would you care to rummage around in my closet to see if there's anything you can wear? I'm thinner, but there might be something.... //I tilt my head and study you, thinking that perhaps, if nothing else, some of my bigger sweats *might* work, though they'd be tight.//

Randy:         //I eye you back, wondering if they'd fit, then shrug.// Can't hurt to try something on. Might find a pair of sweats in there that'll work. //I give you a grin and a wink then.// Got a spare pair of running shoes, too? I don't think boots're gonna go real well with ultra-casual.

Michael:       Not unless you want to make Mr. Blackwell's list of the worst dressed, no. //I feel the grin stretch my mouth, and am glad; I think the worst of the anger is gone, behind me, and I'm a lot more relaxed. Good. I don't want to ruin our time together; I want to get to know you better, find out what makes you tick. I've always found people infinitely fascinating, and you are one of the more interesting specimens I've run across, a curious mixture of innocence and sexuality, of intellect and natural grace, unaffected and real. I step around you, placing a quick pat to your towel-clad ass.// I think we could probably manage a pair of trainers for you·with two pairs of socks, they might fit.

Randy:         //I laugh again and follow you back to the bedroom.// I don't think your feet are *that* much bigger than mine, Michael. In any case, its not gonna matter for the hour or so I'll have them on. //You open the other door in the bedroom and flip the light on inside the closet, then disappear into the depths for a moment. When you emerge you toss me two different pairs of sweat pants before disappearing again. The black ones don't fit, but the blue do, if a little tightly, and I like the heat I see in your eyes when you come back out wearing jeans, and check me over.// Like what you're seein', darlin'?

 

Michael:       //My bad mood is lifting, and I smile back at your rakish grin. Rakish is a good look for you, as well as tumbled and mussed, and thrashing in passion. I like all the looks I've seen so far, and look forward to seeing more of them this weekend. // Verra bonnie, lad. Verra. //If pressed, I can affect a Scottish burr that would make my paternal grandmother quite proud. You laugh, but look vaguely pleased. Though itâs a shame to cover such a lovely body, I toss you the old, stretched out sweatshirt I use when grooming horses in the stable; it should fit. I pull on a dark green sweater, then finger-comb my hair into place.//

Randy:         //It takes me just a minute to pull the sweatshirt on, and another to hit the bathroom to comb my hair out and brush my teeth quickly. My stomach is rumbling now, voicing its displeasure at my having been awake for so long with nothing to eat. I blink when I realize this is the first morning in memory that hasn't required a pot or three of coffee to get me going, and reflect that adrenaline is a pretty good substitute. I eye myself critically in the mirror; at least the sweatpants aren't too tight--I don't want to give a free show to all of San Francisco, and no way am I putting the boxers back on--they're as nasty as my jeans. I head back into the bedroom.// I'm 'bout ready, Michael. You want me to drive--since I know where we're going?

Michael:       //While you'd been in the bath, I'd found socks and trainers for the both of us, and put mine on. I give yours a toss next to the wingchair beside the bed.// Almost ready, yes. //I disappear into the bath to take my turn with toothbrush and comb.// Why don't you drive, as your truck is here? Seems the most logical way to go, and we're coming back here again, anyway. //I realize how that sounds, how I'd just assumed you were coming back here, that I'd never asked if that's what you wanted to do. I step back out into the bedroom.// If that is what you'd like to do, I mean.

Randy:         //I look up from tying my shoes; your voice holds a note of question that I don't think you're used to having. // I'd love to stay, darlin'. //I'm not sure if I imagined it because I want it to be there, or if that look of relief actually crossed your face, but I saw something there, at any rate. Admittedly I haven't known you for very long, but you don't seem like you're used to checking on things like that. But then--why would you be? I know I tend to run my little corner of the world like I'm king·and your corner is bigger than mine. I grin at that analogy, then stand up, tilting my head to the side.// I'll just pack an extra change of stuff when we stop at my place then. All weekend?

Michael:       //It's been a long time since I've bothered to ask anyone to stay longer than the night, and it feels odd. But I'm glad you brought it up; I wasn't certain I'd have asked, no matter how much pleasure we'd shared together.// All weekend sounds like a plan. I didn't want to assume too much, too quickly. //I grin, a quirk of one corner of my mouth.// And I think I can promise no more interruptions for the remainder of the weekend. //I toss you a gym bag to pack your dirty clothes into. I'm making an attempt to keep some distance between us, as I'm getting that itchy feeling in my hands, wanting to touch again. It just doesn't feel quite right at the moment, but I know without a doubt it will again.//

Randy:         I don't think 'all weekend' is an assumption·just something we both want. //I grin and stuff my clothes into the bag, then shove the boots in on top of everything. We're going to my place now, and I'm running through the place in my mind, hoping it at least looks picked up. I'm glad we're going to stop to get bagels; I know I don't have anything in the cupboards; if we're lucky I still have juice in the fridge.// I'm ready. Lead on, get us past the rent-a-cops downstairs, huh?

Michael:       //I make an ushering motion, and let you precede me into the main room. I'm certain things will be straightened up again by the time we return. At the main door, I pause, then lean in close, very close. Your eyes widen and darken as I place my hand on your chest, just above your heart, and bend to kiss you. Soft and sweet, tasting of toothpaste. It's quick, and before you can truly begin to respond, I pull back with a little smile, and open the door for us, stepping out into the hall.//

Randy:         You're a tease, Pierson. //I'm grinning though, so you know I'm teasing. Your kisses could easily become addictive--if they're not already. I think about the men I've kissed in my life, and without doing a total catalogue, I figure I'm putting you right at the top of the list for best. Not a bad place for you to land, after just one night together. It's a long ride down the elevator; funny, how I hadn't noticed last night the time it took, but I guess when you're talking the penthouse apartment in a 30-story building, its going to take a while. I'm glad there's a different security guard at the station this morning; the one last night had given us a distinctly disapproving glance. Not that I care much, or think that you do, for that matter--but its still not my favorite thing to start a day off with. And I've had entirely enough disapproval for one day.// 

Michael:       //I remember the trip up to my apartment last night; it had been remarkably hard to keep my hands to myself, until I reminded myself of all the security cameras about. I'd nodded in the direction of each of them for your benefit, and you'd been quick enough to pick up on what I was telling you. Not that I think any of the security people would be foolish enough to do anything with any of the tapes they have, but still, no sense in giving anyone any ammunition. I can imagine how tempting it might be to have something that the tabloids would pay dearly to obtain, but everyone on the staff has been screened, and their loyalty is assured. I've stayed out of the spotlight for a very long time, and have no desire to have my personal life splattered across the pages of some low-life paper. It would be like a repeat of this morning, magnified by millions, and I feel my neck muscles tighten in reaction. By the time that thought passes through my mind, I'm watching you toss the bag into the back, and then climbing into the spacious cab, stretching out my legs with a sigh.// 

Randy:         //Munch-a-Bagel actually isn't far from your apartment, and you wait in the truck while I run in and get a dozen bagels, cream cheese and lox. It takes a bit longer to navigate through the traffic on Market street, toward the Oakland bridge, but it's also a welcome chance to talk. Your fingers aren't clutching at the armrest quite as tightly this morning as they did last night, and I grin at the memory. I reach out and touch your thigh, squeezing lightly, laughing a little when you startle.// Relax, darlin', I said I wouldn't kill you, and I meant it. You can trust me--no marks on my driving record. //I glance over at you, letting my fingers linger for a moment before settling my hand back on the steering wheel.// How long have you been here--America?

Michael:       //I laugh, and make myself let go of the armrest.// I don't drive that much, myself, so I should be accustomed to riding, though I'll admit Miles is somewhat more·subdued·in his driving style than you are. //I look out over the scenery; it really is quite lovely, and I wonder that I've never paid it much heed before.// I've been in America for perhaps fifteen years, traveling about, looking after various holdings. I like this part of the country, though; it's generally warm enough for me, and so very interesting and colorful. New Orleans was very hot, humid, sticky. Seattle was much more like England--very temperate. New York huge, impersonal, much too crowded. I decided to settle here, though New York was much more the logical choice. I felt...pulled here. //I shrug, then glance back over at you.// I'm very glad, too.

Randy:         I'm glad, too. //The traffic is heavy here, too; a lot of people heading out of the city for the weekend, probably. I glance sideways to see the sailboats that are dotting the bay, and smile. The truck goes pretty much on autopilot as we edge up to the bridge. I've driven this route every day for the last several years, and could do it with my eyes closed--though I'm not going to say that aloud. You'd probably take me literally, so far as driving goes. It's not far and won't take us long; I'm actually very close to you, distance-wise. I love the view from here. Not as spectacular, maybe, as the Golden Gate, but very nice. // I like New England. I did my undergrad work there, at MIT. I kind of miss Massachusetts sometimes...very pretty in the fall. But I love California. It's been home for me for...almost fourteen years, I guess. 

Michael:       // Most your age are still working on a doctorate, yet I know you've had your Ph.D. for awhile, now. I seem to recall something about hearing your name before, but it's at the back of my mind, and won't come forward. I realize suddenly I know *nothing* about you, other than you have a doctorate, and that you work for the company in research. We'd chatted idly, some, but it was so general, that I can't really say it was a fair exchange of information. It's a sobering thought.// How long have you been Dr. Taylor, and how long have you worked for the company? //Had I access to the laptop, I'd have looked up your file, and as underhanded as it seems, I'd not have hesitated; the need to know is ingrained from years I spent at my father's side, being groomed for the position I now occupy.//

Randy:         //Damn. I feel my ears get warm. I hate this--talking about myself. I'd rather be the one asking you a thousand questions. I haven't ever quite figured out why I don't like it so much, but it's pretty irrelevant now; you've asked me.// I got...well, its actually Dr, Dr. Taylor, and I got them both in 1989. I graduated under the dual doctorate program that Stanford offers, and I've been with the company for about eight years now. I started out in bio-engineering, but I've been head of research and development for the last four.

Michael:       //Years of hiding thoughts from others serves me well; I manage not to gape. So young to have accomplished so much. Brilliant. Genius-level brilliance, no less.// That doesn't leave much time for living outside books and the lab, does it?

Randy:         //I sigh and tighten my fingers on the steering wheel. As proud as I am of my accomplishments, they're a little embarrassing, too. Especially when people do the math and start figuring how old I was when I did a lot of them. I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the road; we're nearly off the bridge, then its just ten minutes up the Eastshore Freeway.// It didn't, no. But at the time--I didn't care. I lost my family when I was 13, so there didn't seem to be much else to care about; I was, frankly, glad to have my studying to keep me occupied. Mrs. Franklin, my foster-mother, thought it was weird; she thought it was even weirder when I graduated high school two years later. She kept shaking her head, giving me strange looks. I filed for emancipation when I was 16, because I figured if I was old enough to go to college and be responsible for all that, I damn well was old enough to be responsible for myself. //I give a small grimace that might have been a smile// College was interesting.

Michael:       I can't even imagine what it would be like to lose my entire family...I'm so sorry, Caro...I lost my father about four years ago, in an automobile crash. //I stretch out my hand to cover your thigh, squeezing gently. I wish I'd never brought it up now; there's a shadow in those bright eyes that hadn't been there before, and I'm afraid I'm the one who put it there. I never want to be the source of your grief, or to bring back unhappy memories.//

Randy:         //I slip my hand into yours and squeeze back, giving you a smile.// S'okay, Michael. It's been nearly 18 years now; it doesn't really hurt, anymore...just kind of makes me sad. Sometimes, when I think about all I've done...all I've accomplished...I'll think about my folks, and wish they were here to see it, y'know? Mrs. Franklin was nice enough, if a little freaked-out, and the Riesen's--the ones with the beach? I went to school with their son, they kind of adopted me--but they weren't my Mom and Dad. //I shrug, and squeeze your hand again.// A lot of people treated me--different, I guess, because of my intelligence. My folks never did, and I think sometimes I miss that more than anything. I'm just *Randy*, y'know? Dr. Taylor--he's a whole different guy.

Michael:       There's no *just* about you, Randy. Not at all. Nothing ordinary, nothing plain. //Unbidden, my fingers reach out, and run down your cheek. I feel warmth bloom within me, and its odd, but very nice.// You're remarkable---and I'm talking about you, not Dr. Taylor. You're special. Don't ever forget that. Very...special.

Randy:         //I lean into your caress, surprised by the warmth that moves through me suddenly.// Thanks. That's--nice to hear. //It seems to me its been a while since either of us--given the hesitancy in your voice, and the same I hear in mine--have reached out to anyone. I shift, feeling a little awkward then, and gesture with my head at the apartment complex just head, then turn onto Azure Court// Home sweet home.

Michael:       //I pull my eyes from you, and look around. It's a beautiful apartment building, in a very choice neighborhood. Charming; not the fortress I call home. Friendly-looking, comfortable. You pull into a parking space marked with a number, and we get out and enter. It seems odd not to go through security clearances; I like it. In the elevator, I lean in close to you, and kiss the back of your neck, sliding an arm around your waist and squeezing before releasing you. For some reason, you seem just a shade nervous; I'm not certain whether its because you feel a little uncomfortable at revealing so much of yourself, or because we're going to your place. Possibly both. I don't think it's because of me; you shift automatically to press closer to me with a sidewise glance and smile before pulling away just as the door opens and deposits us on your floor.//

Randy:         //The elevator stops on the fifth floor of the five-story building, and I lead you down the hall to #522. I have the most incredible urge to fidget, and I'm not sure where it came from. I unlock the door and push it open for you, hoping that I'd tidied up before leaving for work yesterday morning. I've spent so little time here lately, from extra hours at the lab, that I can't honestly remember when I last *cleaned* it. It's a fair-sized apartment; nothing spectacular, but not bad for a two-bedroom. I've converted the second one into a study/office, and it opens right off the main living space. I wonder what you'll think. I haven't had anyone here in...God, have I ever had anyone here? I can't recall; certainly not in the last four years, which is how long I've had this place. I push the door closed and stand there, looking around, trying to see it through new eyes.// Not quite the view yours has, but not bad. I can still see the sail boats out my windows.

Michael:       That's very important, isn't it? //I set the bag of bagels and cream cheese onto the dining room table then wander forward, to look out the window. I can see the sailboats, drifting out there on the blue, blue water, colorful sails bellied in the breeze, gliding along as if they're sliding on glass.// You like to sail, Randy?

Randy:         //I turn from the window to face you, my lips curving into a huge grin.// I don't think you even want to get me started on that right now, Michael--we'd be here 'til sunset next week. Yes, it's very important to me. I love to sail. I grew up doing it--my dad taught me. It's always been something...//I pause, trying to put it into words.// Out on the ocean, I'm *alive*. I'm a part of the cycle, part of nature...part of the waves. It's like harnessing and holding onto pure adrenaline, whether coasting smoothly or riding out tides and waves. It's just... it's incredible. Beautiful.

Michael:       //You speak of it with such reverence, such passion, I can't help but be moved. The love you have for it shines clearly from you, driving away the shadow from your eyes, bringing back the sparkle. If only for that, I love it, myself. I watch your face, the movement of your hands, the way your whole body responds to your description. I feel myself smile in reaction, enjoying your happiness.// Take me with you, some time, Caro?

 

Randy:         I'd like that a lot, darlin'. //I hadn't meant the words to come out so forcefully, with so much emotion behind them, but the truth is, I want to share it with you. Sailing is my passion, my love, and I want to see your face when the water sprays over us, when the wind blows across us, and the sun warms us. I feel my mouth quirk upward.// I definitely would like to take you, Michael. I think you'd enjoy it.

Michael:       I'd love to go with you, to see it with you. //I lift my hand and smooth over your forearm, following it up strong biceps to broad shoulder. That, and swimming, then, accounts in some part for the strength, the power I can feel rippling beneath your skin.// The next time you want to go, let me know, and I'll go with you--if you don't mind taking a confirmed landlubber along. And if I fall overboard---well, at least I can swim.

 

Randy:         //I laugh and reach up to give your hand a quick squeeze before moving off to the kitchen.// I don't think you need to worry about fallin' overboard, Michael. It's a pretty good-sized boat. Just don't lean over the side, and we'll be good to go. //I pull plates and knives out of the cupboard, and rummage around until I find two clean glasses, muttering to myself about needing to clean the place up.// You want juice, or coffee? It won't take long to make some.

Michael:       //I watch you for a moment, then follow to sit on one of the stools at the counter. Your place feels comfortable, lived-in, unlike mine. I'm so seldom in mine--there's nothing to hold me there.// I've never cared that much for coffee--I suppose the love of tea is inbred in me. //A quick smile flashes across your face as you slice four bagels into plates.// Juice is fine. //I pick out a couple of ripe oranges from the bowl at my elbow, and busy myself with peeling them.// Did you pick this place because you simply liked it, or for proximity to work?

Randy:         A little of both, I guess. //I hand you a plate with two bagels, and set the cheese and lox on the counter, close at hand. You set an orange on my plate at the same time I set the glasses and bottle of juice down. I grin at you; we work pretty well in the kitchen together.// I wanted, actually, to be on the other side of the bridge, because the traffic is a bitch during rush-hour, but I couldn't find anything I liked over there, in the price-range I wanted to stay in. //I shrug and add cheese and lox to one bagel, watching as you do the same.// I guess this place just--felt right. I don't know. I like it, it's comfortable, and it suits my needs. There's a shopping center just down the road, and access to the marina is only a couple of miles away. And the traffic is a *little* better over here. //I grin.// Not a lot, but a little bit.

 

Michael:       //I hadn't realized how hungry I was until you set the plate before me. Before I realize it, the bagels are gone, and I'm working on sectioning the orange and eating it. I feel relaxed with you, and it surprises me, as I'm usually very wary of people. But you seem to want nothing of me beyond my company. That pleases me enormously. It isn't until you look up at me and then away, self-consciously for the second or third time that I realize I'm studying you, much as I'd study an exotic specimen. Perhaps you are. I shrug, a barely perceptible lift of one shoulder, and busy myself licking the sticky orange juice from my fingers.// 

Randy:         //I finish off both bagels and the orange, then get up to get another one. You shake your head when I ask if you want a third, and I grin--I'm used to being the one still eating.// How often do you go to the shareholder parties, Michael? I've been to·well, not a bunch, but more than I'd have gone to on my own·I don't remember ever seeing you there. //I think I'd remember you, too--you're a very memorable individual.//

Michael:       As few as possible, honestly. I stay at them for a very short time, just long enough that people see me, and then I'm generally gone within an hour. I can usually plead work-related difficulties--Erich has become very good at making excuses for me. //I shrug.// I'm most visible at charity functions, that sort of thing, though I try to keep that to a minimum, also--I'm quite shy of the limelight, actually. That was never something I truly enjoyed.

Randy:         Bad as it sounds, I just don't go. Crandall used to ride me about it a lot; 'as the head of R&amp;D, you need to be visible'. //I shake my head and grin.// He and I had it out one night when I reminded him that he isn't *really* my boss; when push comes to shove, I've got just as much position as he has--mine's just not administrative. I can find better things to do with my time, always. But last night·//I let my voice trail off as I remember how close I came to not going--and how glad I was afterward that I had. I look over at you, taking in how good you look, sitting there on my barstool, at my kitchen counter.// Well, let's just say that for the first time in my life, I'm glad I went to the damn party. //I get off my stool and clear off the counter, putting things away quickly and efficiently. I have no idea if we're going to be back here this weekend, so I guess I should tidy up a bit while we're here.//

Michael:       I'm very glad you did, too. Otherwise·I'd not be sitting here enjoying your company. //I'm not certain what our plans are for the rest of the weekend, beyond the obvious, but just sitting here talking with you, is remarkably pleasant. I seldom get much of a chance to get out, and when I do, my activities tend to be much the same, with little variation. Until I broke out of my little shell and went with you to 'play hooky', I hadn't realized just how insular I am, how cushioned from the outside world. I'd like to explore a little, now that Erich and I have come to an understanding about the remainder of the weekend, and I'd like for you to be my guide.// What would you like to do, Randy? As the saying goes, the world is now your oyster·.

Randy:         Well, that's a rather appealing offer. The world, huh? //I give you a grin and shut the dishwasher, turning it on.// We could go for a drive--maybe go hiking? I know some good hiking trails not too far from here·we could go back to the Riesen's and go swimming, spend the day lying on the beach like a couple of slugs· //I frown, looking out the window.// I'd like to take you sailing this weekend, but she's in dry-dock right now--I had to order some new sails, after mine got ripped in that last bad windstorm we had. But, //I shrug// we could go up the coast a ways, and rent a boat too--there isn't much I couldn't sail. What sounds good to you?

Michael:       //I think of the cabin I have in the mountains up north; I think you'd like that--hiking, swimming, fishing, if that's your pleasure--all in utter privacy. But it's quite a distance, and its probably too late to go for the entire weekend. Something closer to home, then.// I'd like to go hiking. I'm not that much given to sleeping on the hard ground, but I do like to get away to enjoy the woods. A day trip, nothing too strenuous, just something simple. Or, if you'd like more sophisticated pleasures, I have box seats at the symphony. I simply enjoy the company·what we do isn't relevant other than the enjoyment you derive from it. 

Randy:         Well, the symphony sounds good, maybe for an evening thing some time. //I think about what I said, and wonder if it'll happen--and realize I'd like it to. Ah, well, that can be addressed later. For now--go with the moment.// It's a beautiful day, though, and I don't know about you, but I've been stuck inside a lab for the most part for the last three weeks. Let's go hiking·maybe eat somewhere along the coast on the way back·then find some *other* kinds of activities to indulge in. //I give you an exaggerated wink and head out of the kitchen.// I'm gonna change real quick and grab some clothes. I'll be right back.

Michael:       //I sit there for a moment after you disappear. The clock on the microwave reads a little after ten, much earlier than I'd thought. For a long moment, I wrestle with myself. A part of me would like nothing better than to go back to your bedroom, and see if you'd like a tumble, and the other, admittedly smaller part of me, wants to wait, to spend the day with you, and enjoy your company without the pressure of sex. I shrug, and rest my chin on my hand as I wait for you to come back. It was so much simpler when I didn't care that much for my bedpartners·we both knew what we were there for, and it was little less than a business arrangement. This·well, I'm not quite sure what this is, sure only that I like you, and don't want to do something really stupid. The indecision I feel is something new, and it makes me a little uncomfortable.//

Randy:         //I pack a duffel bag quickly; a couple of changes of underwear and socks, the things I might need between now and whenever we decide this weekend is over; tomorrow evening, probably. While I'm changing clothes I stop and wonder what in the hell I'm doing right now. What was I thinking with last night? A little bit late for that sort of thought, now though--when last night's actions were, conceivably, enough to kill me. Damage done·but I still don't know squat about you--other than you have eyes that seem to sort of suck me into a kind of trance, and that you have a lunatic working for you who thinks your private life is his business.

Yes, I know you're who you say you are; I could hardly have worked for your business for eight years and not at least have seen a picture of you. You've changed, I think, since when I first came on board. I remember now, that picture of you--thinner, not quite so intense-looking. But it remains that I don't know anything about you--and I've always prided myself on being at least a *reasonably* practical kind of guy. So, why am I doing this? Because--there's something there, between us, I think. I can feel it, when I'm not trying to. I don't know what I'd call it--it feels almost like an electrical current, sometimes. And I'm curious. I miss having someone to do things with, to talk to·and I want to see if you turn out to be that someone. I shrug at myself and zip up the bag. I've dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with a pullover sweatshirt, and running shoes of my own. Ready to go--for whatever will happen· I hope.//

Michael:       //I watch you emerge from your bedroom, slightly flushed, and I wish like hell I'd asked if you wanted that tumble. It would've been good, I know, and I don't think you'd have objected much. Nobility and good intentions are pains in the ass. I'm not certain what expression was on my face at the moment, because you look at me curiously. I straighten, steadfastly ignoring the ache in my groin, and make my mouth smile at you.// I hope you have some of the easier trails in mind·I don't have my hiking boots with me. I know the more strenuous trails, but then, I'm a snob who always bypasses the easy ones. 

Randy:         //What were you thinking about just now? You had the oddest expression on your face. I nod, wondering if you're having second thoughts.// I don't generally do the harder trails if I'm just going out for the day--too much chance to rush, and I hate to rush. //Your eyes are dark right now; they look almost like thunderclouds just before the storm breaks: black, roiling, intense. I wonder what you'd do--if anything--if I said fuck it, let's strip down and do some exercise here. I don't want to spend the whole weekend like rabbits in heat though--I want to spend some time with you, get to know you. I step a little closer and I can see your nostrils flare. I swear my fingers are drawn to you; I don't even realize I've touched you, until you turn your face toward that touch.//

Michael:       //Your hand on my cheek is very warm, and I can feel the calluses against my skin. For a moment, I close my eyes and lean into your palm, savoring your touch; it's unbearably exciting, and my body leaps with the pleasure of it. Very sweet, indeed. My own hand goes to your chest, and it's all I can do not to curl my fingers in the material and pull you against my body. I can feel a quick tremor go through you, and your eyes widen. Very carefully, trying to keep from touching you any more than necessary, I lean in and give you a quick, soft kiss.// Ready, Caro?

Randy:         //More than you could believe, I'll bet. God, I can't believe that one little touch, one little kiss could have me ready to just blow off other plans and spend the afternoon merrily fucking. Or maybe I can--there's something about the attraction between us·something very charged. I wonder what you'd do if I leaned in and kissed you. Kissed you the way I *want* to kiss you--devouring you. You haven't moved very far back yet, in spite of your words. I shudder once at the heat glittering in your eyes, and manage to speak; I'd thought my vocal chords were frozen.// I--yeah. And darlin'--keep those thoughts close by. 

Michael:       //I let my hand skim down, fingers curling over the lump so prominent in the front of your jeans. I give a gentle squeeze, and your whole body jerks hard. Reluctantly, I pull back my hand, and smile, more wolfishly than friendly.// I'll be certain to keep those thoughts *very* close by today.

Randy:         //Okay. So, am I thirty, or eighteen? At the moment, I couldn't have said truthfully. My body seems to think eighteen. I laugh, shakily, and withdraw into my own personal space; I think if I touched you right now, we'd both ignite. I can see your arousal; your cock is tenting against the jeans you're wearing, just like mine. So close--and no chance for interruption here. I shake my head roughly and back up one more step, reaching for the bag I'd dropped.// Good--'cause they're not gonna be far from my mind, either. Let's get going·//before we can't.//

 

Michael:       //I *really* hate nobility, when my body is screeching at me to pay attention to it. Still, I'm supposed to be an adult, supposed to be in control of my baser instincts. I give a mental snort at that. I know *exactly* which head has always been in control, and it's not the uppermost one. Well, I've always been one for new experiences, and self-denial is definitely a new experience. I turn on my heel and go to the apartment door, opening it for you, swearing mentally in all the languages I know.//

Randy:         //I wonder if you're feeling as frustrated as I am right now. I don't know you all that well, but I'd be willing to bet big money you are. It's become kind of like an elusive thing--we both know we want it, and we both don't want the other to think that's all we want. And it's not--well, not completely. I can't help but remember, as I'm turning the truck off of the main road and into the entrance of the park, just how good it was this morning--and how much better it had held the promise of being·until what's-his-name showed up. Neither one of us said much in the truck·giving ourselves a chance to relax, to loosen up a little bit. I've gone hiking in this park quite a bit in the past; the trails, while not very challenging, are fun, and itâs a very beautiful area to hike in. We didn't bring anything in the way of equipment or food, or even water, so I know we're not going to stay a long time, which is fine. I just wanted to get out and do *something* with you. I park the truck in the area closer to the main trail, then shut it off and turn toward you.// Have you done a lot of hiking here, or in England?

Michael:       //I stir out of my reverie; I'd not paid much attention to where you were going, only noting you'd taken a northeasterly direction, and that I didn't need to fear for my life, as I usually did. Until we end up in the visitors' parking, and specifically asked a question of me, I'd been content to sit there, let you drive and hum to yourself, and drift a little. The first few miles had been devoted to getting myself back under control, and after that, to simply looking out the window at the passing scenery. Perhaps not the most scintillating of companions, but I didn't feel uncomfortable with the quiet, for some reason--unusual.// Yes, rather a lot. I've always been very active, very sports-oriented, though not organized team sports. Riding, running, swimming, archery--my brothers and I all did our fair share of target shooting. //I shrug, getting out of the truck and following you into the deeply-shaded trails, grateful for my heavy sweater.//

Randy:         Archery. Huh--bet that'd be a lot of fun to try. I've done some riding, but I'm not very good at it. The friend who taught me--or tried to teach me, //I give you a grin, shrugging,// kept saying 'you have to feel the horse moving, move with it', stuff like that. I never could quite get it. Eh, whatever. //This trail is the easiest one we could do, and its actually peaceful and quiet here right now. Another few hours and every young couple with children on the east side of the bridges will be out here, letting their kids run off steam. I'm glad to have it and you pretty much to myself right now. // I didn't do a lot of sports growing up, other than sailing and swimming--and both of those were pretty much put on hold while I was in college. Too much pressure to get as much done as quickly as possible. I managed to squeeze in some swimming·but sailing· Well, the first thing I did as soon as I could afford it, and was settled, was to start looking for a boat.

Michael:       //The trail is wide enough for us to both walk comfortably side by side. I can hear the rustle of the wind in the leaves, the sounds of birds and other small wildlife, the sounds of our trainers on the soft chipped-wood path. I can feel myself relaxing, soaking in the calmness of nature, and the ease of your companionship. I slip my hands into my jeans pockets, ambling slowly, without much more ambition than to put one foot before the other.// And you evidently found one, as its in dry-dock at the moment. Are you able to take her out very much?

Randy:         The one in dry-dock right now isn't my first--that one was a little bitty thing that was a great starter, but not what I wanted to have, ultimately. //I laugh, remembering the poor little thing that was barely sea-worthy.// It was all I could afford at the time, though. I've had the one I have now for about·geez, about six years, I guess. And work schedules permitting, I go out as often as I can--generally at least three weekends out of the month, and during the week, if I have time. //I look up when a seagull flies overhead, squawking loudly.// I take two weeks every summer and go--I've gone as far south as southern Mexico--and itâs the most relaxing two weeks of each year.

Michael:       //We pause at a fork in the path, and I arbitrarily choose the left hand trail before answering.// Sailing is simply one thing I've never taken the opportunity to do. Did some sculling at University, but rowing a scull is far different than sailing a boat. I'm not sure exactly why I never tried it, other than I seemed to have so many other·interests·that there simply wasn't time. And then after I graduated, and went into the family business, there was less time to try out new things--I scarcely had time for the old hobbies. I do keep active, simply because I can't imagine not, but sometimes, its difficult to fit in everything.

Randy:         //What an interesting emphasis you put on some of those words. Makes me wonder what sort of interests and hobbies you have. This is a lot nicer, and different from what I'd envisioned when I suggested hiking--what we're doing is no more than taking a long, leisurely walk·and itâs the best thing I think I've done in a while. I look over at you; it's very easy to see that you make an effort to fit in physical exercise, because you're in great shape. As if I hadn't figured *that* out last night· I shake my head, then let my eyes sweep up and down you once more, before shifting uneasily again. Too much of that and I'm going to lose the tenuous control I've managed to regain in the last hour.// The family business is a lot bigger now than it used to be, isn't it. I can remember several changes and additions, and splits within the departments in the time I've been with it. //I shove my own hands into my pockets now, since I have this sudden, itchy urge to reach out and take one of yours, just to touch you.//

Michael:       //I notice the quick look; I notice everything you do. I grin to myself at the effort we're both making.// Yes, well. I've been devoting a lot of time to setting up a new aspect of the business--a foundation devoted to pure research·for orphan diseases, genetic anomalies, genetic research in general. Pharmaceuticals have made the business, and now, its time to give a bit back. This has been in the works for·ah, five years or so, but just now beginning to gel into reality. It was my father's idea originally, and became mine after he died. A legacy, of sorts.

Randy:         That's a tremendous legacy, Michael. //I feel a tiny shiver race down my spine--what an incredible thing you're setting up.// Are you going to work it in conjunction with university research centers, or will it be separate·will the funds come from Pierson Pharmaceuticals solely, or are you planning on inviting other corporations and companies to donate--like with charity fund-raisers and benefits? Man, you'll be doing·//I shake my head.// God, what a plan. //I look over at you a little suspiciously then.// Five years, huh? Y'all've been keepin' it pretty quiet, haven't you. I'm not totally in with office gossip, but I know if something this big was being passed around, I'd have heard about it.

Michael:       //Well, evidently I've hit upon something very important to you--the last time I saw you so·lit from within was when you were talking about sailing. You've stopped in the middle of the trail, so I do, also. Your hands had come out of your pockets, sketching excited little patterns in the air as you'd spoken.// It's not been a secret, specifically--just not well-publicized. We've had a few of those posh charity benefits for it, some fundraising, but the primary cost is from the pocketbook of Pharmaceuticals. Other companies aren't really interested in the orphan disease and drug market·the need is too small, too specific, for it to be profitable, so most don't bother. I have time, I have capital, and the need is there, so its time to give back. I've been extraordinarily fortunate in my life, and my parents were both strong proponents of charity, of returning good to those who'd been good to you. Believe me, we had to fight boards of directors·what's the expression·tooth and nail·for this. I've listened to *years* of naysayers, of pessimists, of those who don't want to take the risks, to outlay the funding. That's why most of this has been out of the family pocket, and why it's taken so long to get rolling. The only thing that finally swayed them was an argument of what good publicity this would make, the tremendous amount of goodwill this will engender. And of course, the promise of profit in the Pharmaceutical branch, should something prove able to turn a profit. //I frown a little.// So much for altruism, but if it gets the dream built·.

Randy:         //My frown matches yours for a moment.// I suppose the board of directors have to consider the financial well-being of the parent, main company--nothing would last for long, without that. But·Jesus, Michael. Something like this is· //I pause, trying to order my thoughts into something that's going to resemble coherency. Most independent research I've come across in my career has been at university level, and funded by the government--but itâs a vast undertaking for a private company.// So much time and energy and research is being devoted to finding a cure--or at least a control--for AIDS and HIV that I think a lot of the research world has forgotten that there are a lot of things out there that we still don't know about genetics, about diseases· It's only been a generation-span of time since the DNA molecule broken down and decoded· What you're proposing could, given time, really make a change in the medical, genetic, and yeah, the pharmaceutical world. //I stop and take a breath, and give you a sheepish grin.// I'll back down a little bit here·I don't want to launch into words that are going to sound like a foreign language. But man, you've got·my complete respect and admiration for what you're planning here. Itâs the best thing I can imagine happening to the research world.

Michael:       I'm pleased that you're so enthusiastic about this--I've spent so many years fighting everyone about it, including some of my own family, that its such a·relief to actually hear someone say something in my favor. That's perhaps one reason you've not heard much about it·it's caused so much internal strife that we've kept it quiet because of possible decline in shares and stocks. Research is a very shaky field, and not one of the most popular with shareholders. Even *I* must bow before their collected power·I still have the majority, but they have enough power that I must listen to them·no matter how bitter I find that sometimes. //Sometime or another we'd started walking again, and the left-hand path had curved back to the main path, and we were at the entrance again. I'd never even noticed the exercise, so caught up in conversation with you. I stand blinking at the wash of sun, so bright after the dimness of the path.//

Randy:         //My mind is still whirling at all you've told me, and itâs a major surprise to find that we're nearly back to the truck. A quick check of my watch shows that we were walking and talking for nearly two hours--I can't believe how quickly the time passed.// It sucks when you know you're right about something, and you know that the something you're right about can only benefit people--and the world in general--in the long run, but you have to fight for that·or worse, back down because collectively *they* have more power than you. Do you have any idea when you're going on-line with this? Do you just have the basics hammered out, or do you know where you're going to locate it--will you have separate research facilities for different areas, or one big compound for the whole thing·how far along in the development is this?

Michael:       //I grin at the whirlwind of questions. It's good to see someone with enthusiasm, someone who seems to care. I hop up into the truck and belt myself in before answering.// We've hammered out the basics, gotten matching government funding, and I've done all the ass-kissing possible for this stage of development. I've pulled in favor after favor·done everything but marry the king's homely daughter to get what I want. We'll be doing the ground-breaking next month, and that's when the media circus will really start. //I pause, watching the scenery slip by, a green blur. I'm not certain where you're going, and I don't suppose it really matters, though my stomach is reminding me heartily that its been awhile since breakfast.// It will be separate from the main campus, and in connection with Berkeley, though I initially balked at University involvement·too ridden with politics. But one must make compromises to get what is needed.

Randy:         //I head the truck out of town, and toward the San Rafael bridge. There's a very nice seafood place over there, and even if its not a conventional lunch or dinner time right now, I'm starved, and I'm betting you're probably hungry, too. I have no idea, though I could guess, the level of restaurant you're used to dining at, so this will probably be like the taco-shack last night--but hey, new experiences are good for the soul.// You're probably right about the media--they do seem to love to sink their teeth into the jugular of anyone's business. //I pause for a minute to change lanes, noticing that you grab the armrest again for a moment. I bite my lip to hide my grin and decide I'm going to make a conscious effort to tone it down before I scare you away completely.// The university involvement might be a pain in the ass, but it'll probably turn out to work in your favor--there's a lot of independent researchers working with the university labs, who would jump at the chance to get onboard a project like this. I have a couple of friends from when I was doing some of my post-doctoral work who've since gotten in with major companies, but I remember them bitching a lot about that when we were doing our projects--how they would have liked the stability of a major company, but with the freedom for more-or-less independent research.

Michael:       //You turn us off the main highway, onto the back roads.// I'm truly hoping I've not made a deal with the devil, in involving the government and the university, but I could see no other way to take this. Besides, //I flash you a bright grin// the devil already has my soul, for various and sundry other reasons.

 

Randy:         Oh, he has, huh? Well--looks like I might have to make a deal with him, myself, then. I kinda like your company. //I add my own grin, then turn into the small parking area for the Crab House. It's not much to look at, but they have the best crab legs, and fish and chips, that I've had anywhere. Except possibly the Gulf area. // Well, I doubt you've made a deal with the devil as far as the project goes, Michael. It sounds like you've gone with the best options available to get it underway·and as one who has a deep interest and investment in the field of research, and genetics in particular, I think its fantastic. I can't wait 'til I hear that you've got the building underway--'cause that's going to be a major mile-stone.

Michael:       //The place is dimly-lit, and smells of seafood and beer, and only the generous would describe the décor as rustic. I can hear a jukebox with country music twanging in the background, and follow you as you thread through irregularly-placed tables to get us a booth toward the back, facing the ocean. If nothing else, you're expanding my concepts of eating-out--I can't possibly imagine bringing Nicole here--she'd have my head for it. But the taco place was very good, so I think I can trust your judgment on this one. And as no one would ever expect to see me here, I feel freer. When you slide into the booth, I restrain myself from patting your very fine ass, but it's a close call. I settle into the seat opposite you, grinning.// Yes, it will be, and I can't tell you how much I'm anticipating it, media or not.

Randy:         You get to cut the ribbon, when they start? //I grin and wave to the girl behind the counter.// Lindy--how're you doing? Haven't seen you in a while. //She heads over, giving me a wink and you an appraising look. "Your fault, sugar. You're the one who hasn't been in here in a while." She turns to you. "Hiya, handsome. Whatcha want to drink?"//

Michael:       //For a moment, I'd felt like an entrée in a restaurant, and she'd not had a meal in a week. But then I smile back at her. // Iced tea would be fine, thank you. //Her eyes round a bit after I've spoken, and her attitude becomes a little more obvious; her body language takes a decidedly interested turn. Sorry, not my type, I think·at the moment, that type is sitting directly across from me, grinning like a madman at the exchange.//

Randy:         I'll have tea, too, Lindy--and a basket of crabcakes. Bring a menu back too, would you, please? //She grins and winks at me, then mutters something about all the best ones being taken and I roll my eyes. If wishes were horses. When she's gone to the back of the store I give you an apologetic grin.// I forget sometimes that she comes on like that--she gave up on me a long time ago, and she's fun to just flirt with now--because she knows that's all I'm going to do. But other guys that she hasn't seen before· Well, anyway. Hope you're not scared away from lunch now. //You're looking at me with the most·interesting? Unreadable?·expression on your face. I have a feeling that Lindy didn't even faze you·and wonder what it would take to make those incredible eyes go from cool gray to hot black again. Nothing I can do here·but later·definitely later.// Um·not to beat a dead horse, but do you have any idea how long before you actually have the foundation up and running?

Michael:       //Lindy brushes against my arm deliberately as she brings the tea, and I move unobtrusively away, though I give her a smile of thanks. In my *much* younger days, I might have encouraged her, or actually taken her up on her offer, but not now. Now, I'm focusing exclusively upon you, and anyone else is an unwelcome intrusion.// Hmm. The buildings should be up within a year and a half--two, if problems arise, and I've learned to be generous with estimates, as the unexpected always shows up. Operations should begin at that time. Within a year, we should begin looking for staff. //I stir my tea, thoughtful. You've been very curious about the whole project, and while it may be simple interest, or curiosity, a little voice in the back of my brain wonders if its not possibly something else.//

Randy:         //I nod, then smile at Lindy when she brings the basket of crabcakes and hushpuppies out. She drops a menu in front of you, leaning in a little further this time, and I shake my head fondly. She's a sweet thing, but so obvious it isn't even funny. How long have I been coming here? A long time. I wonder how old she is now, if she's ever going to leave this place and try to find her way in the real world. On second thought, she's probably better off here--I'm not so sure she could handle the real world. You're frowning a little, but I can't decide if its at the menu, or thoughts about your project, or what. I order the crab legs I generally get, and listen to you finally pick the same. Lindy takes the menu and sashays away; I think she finally got the message you're not going to pursue her interest. I wonder if you ever have any time when you don't have to think about what's going on with some aspect of your business--then decide we're probably very much alike in that respect, because its seldom that I completely forget about my work.// Sounds like a good time-table·I guess. //I shrug.// I wouldn't know, myself, about getting something like that up and running--but I'm really glad to hear you're doing it. Did you want to do anything tonight, or just take it easy--maybe rent a movie, or something?

Michael:       //You're smiling at me, with that powerful combination of sweetness and seduction, and any thoughts I might have over possible motives fly out the window. My body takes a definite interest, and I shift a little in my seat.// The 'or something' option sounds very interesting, to be quite honest.

Randy:         //Oh, man. That was it. Not hot black yet, but definitely a darker gray·almost stormy. You shift again, and I reach one foot out and rub your calf, grinning, enjoying the tightening sensation in my gut.// Yeah, it does, doesn't it. And its amazing, the things you can fit under 'or something'. //My grin turns more wicked, and I glance around, glad its nearly deserted in here, before sliding my foot up a little further.// I think 'fuck ourselves senseless' comes under that heading, actually.

Michael:       //I set down my glass on the table and it rattles a little before settling. I clear my throat, and say in a deceptively mild voice// Unless you want me to fuck you right here on this table in front of Lindy, I'd move your foot away, Caro.

Randy:         //For a half a second I consider *not* moving my foot, just to see if you'd actually do it. What a spark that sends through me--talk about a rush! But your eyes look deadly serious, so I shift, pulling my foot away. // Voyeuristic-related activities have a certain appeal·but I think I'd like to have some *serious* privacy for the next little while. I'd like you all to myself, with no one watching, listening, nothing. Phone off the hook, door bolted and chained, blinds down. Whatever it takes, darlin'. Just you and me and the bed for a while.

Michael:       Most definitely--I think that's a plan I can live with. //I can feel the heat building within me, and can almost feel it pouring off you. I offer you a conspiratorial smile.// I think, after we eat, that I'll not complain about the speed limits you break on the way back to my place. //Just for wickedness, and to show you two can play at that game, I toe off one of my trainers, and slip my socked foot up your calf, up your thigh. It's a benefit to have such long legs at a time like this; just looking at me, I don't appear to have moved. But the look on your face is priceless.// Open your legs, Caro.

Randy:         //I lean back against the booth and shift my legs apart, feeling like I've been dropped into a pit of liquid heat. You've got the most wicked look on your face, glittering in your eyes. I'm glad we've ordered, but have a feeling that food is going to come at the most inopportune time. Or if I am. I arch one eyebrow.// You gonna just tease, or follow all the way through, darlin'?

Michael:       //My toes find the burgeoning erection beneath your jeans, and I begin rubbing the ball of my foot against it, slowly. You shift abruptly, a sexy little wriggle.// You're a scientist·you like research·consider this a scientific experiment. How long can I stimulate you before you either beg me to stop, or come in your jeans? Can you eat your meal? If not, can you come without a sound? I'm all in favor of experiments, aren't you?

Randy:         //Even my eyes and hair feel hot, never mind regions considerably further south. What the hell was I thinking, wearing these jeans? Well, I grabbed the first pair I came to, that's what. I narrow my eyes at you, knowing you look calm, but not so sure that's how you're really feeling. You can't hide what's reflected back at me, and I swear I've never seen eyes that hot before. Volcanic lava has nothing on you right now. I shift again, turning a little in my seat, and pushing myself against your foot. Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment, then narrow in speculation, and the grin that appears is·ferocious. It sends chills and shivers all through me, contrasting nicely with the heat that's oozing over me.// Research·is a good thing·yes. I don't know·if I can come without making any noise·but if you keep on· //I grit my teeth for a moment as I throb against your foot, and your toes do incredible things to me//·we're probably gonna find out.

Michael:       Tease me, Caro, and you'll find out that I always carry through. I have a very highly-developed appetite for the risky. //I lean back a little. You're flushed, and I can see a fine sheen of sweat over your forehead. Beneath the denim, you're as hard as iron, and I can feel the small, helpless rocking motions of your pelvis. I know I shouldn't torment you, but I like seeing you hot like this, and I've waited·for what seems an eternity. One of your hands grips the edge of the table, and the knuckles stand out lividly against your skin. You didn't have to obey me; you could have told me to get my foot back, even as I told you. But you didn't, and that willingness, that obedience to my request, is intriguing. I'm so intent on you that only the basket of food landing on the table before me makes me aware of Lindy's presence once more. I withdraw abruptly, and watch you struggle for control again.//

Randy:         //I can't decide whether to be grateful for Lindy bringing our food, or pissed as hell at the abrupt cessation. Twice in one day isn't going to go a long way toward making me a happy person--though I'm not so sure I'm ready to put on a public show here. On a deserted beach in the dark is one thing; in a well-lit, if somewhat sparsely populated restaurant is something else altogether. If I'm honest, there's an appeal there. Following your request, doing this in public, the thrill of possible discovery. But I was dead-on serious when I said I want the next round to be just you and me, in private, no interruptions. I give Lindy a smile that I hope is sincere, and look down at food that doesn't hold as much appeal right now as it did a little while ago, before hormones and sex drive took over. You've got the wickedest smile on your face, and I feel an answering one--accompanied by a hot flush moving over my cheeks and ears--spread over mine. When Lindy's out of hearing distance, I hiss quietly,// You're a cock-tease, Pierson· just remember, paybacks are a bitch.

Michael:       Oh, no, Randy. I'm not a tease·I deliver. Think of that as merely·an appetizer for the main course. I'd not want you to lose interest, you understand. // I drop a wink, and set to my food with an appetite--the sooner we finish, the sooner we can be on the road and back to my place, where I can proceed to show you that teasing is not the only thing I can do to your cock.//

Randy:         If you think I'm losing interest, then we've got a problem, man. I haven't stopped being interested since-- Well, never mind. //I grin, the heat in my cheeks subsiding a little bit. No lack of sexual heat, just the worst of the flush fading from my skin. The main course sounds like it could be something to last all afternoon and night, if we're given our druthers, and I rather like the idea of doing what I'd said earlier--fucking ourselves senseless. My dick likes the idea too, and throbs again at the thought. I make myself pick up my fork; the sooner we eat, the sooner we can go--and there's nothing else I want right now, other than to get back to your place and get naked, as fast as possible.//

 

************************

 

Michael:       //As I'd thought, it was a wild ride back home. It hadn't helped that I'd pinned you to the side of your truck and kissed you until we both couldn't breathe, and could scarcely think. It hadn't helped that I'd found it almost impossible to keep my hands from roaming over you as you drove. Only when we pulled into the drive of my apartment building did I recapture a sense of decorum, and that was only because I knew we'd be scrutinized carefully. I was very grateful for the length of the oversized sweater I wore; it helped to conceal the erection I knew was clearly outlined against the tight denim. My nipples were almost as hard, and the sweater rubbed against them in a most wonderful way. It seemed as if it took forever to get back to my floor. I could feel heat practically pouring from you; you were hot enough to burn me, I think, and your eyes were black with need. I'd been primed since this morning, and as needy as I felt, I was afraid I'd not last long. As I ran the keycard through the lock, I turned to murmur softly,// Best remember what it feels like to walk·tomorrow, you'll not be able to do so·.

Randy:         I hope that's a promise you're gonna keep, darlin'. //Jesus, my body nearly took off on its own with that one. Your voice feels like velvet scraping over me, and my skin is so sensitive from arousal right now, that just the promise of a touch makes me ache. I broke nearly every speed limit on the books on the trip back here; your hands stroking my cock and nipples, thighs and chest helped add to the heightened sense of urgency, of need. We behaved ourselves--barely--in the elevator, and now here we are, stepping into the cool, dim interior of your apartment. I wait, almost, until the door is closed, then launch myself against you, my mouth hungry for another taste of yours, my hands aching to touch you. My turn to pin you, and I lever my hands in between us, crawling up under your sweater to pinch and pull on them. They're hard, tiny little erections to match the one throbbing against me from behind your jeans, and I groan into your mouth as I grind my body against yours. When I can make myself do it, I break the kiss to whisper hoarsely into your ear,//I don't wanna walk tomorrow, darlin'. Want you to fuck me so hard I can still feel it next week. //I drop one hand down to squeeze you, my dick straining to get out when you moan.// Want this, hot and throbbing inside me, Michael. The sooner the better·

Michael:       //I'd been carrying your overnight bag, and I let it fall to the floor with a thump to match the one my body makes as I hit the door. God, yes, this is what I wanted--to feel you straining against me, hard, muscular, aggressive, hands and mouth everywhere, almost overwhelming. It's like being caught in an electrical storm; I can almost feel the sparks of energy arcing between us--I tingle wherever you touch me, and damn, if you're not trying to touch everywhere, at once. Though you obviously prefer being the bottom, you're not passive, and I like that. I've never cared for passive partners·I always appreciated someone who could bring passion to my bed, and you're like fire, hot and devouring. Your fingers clench in my sweater, and haul me halfway across the room, your mouth never leaving mine. I seize control back, and push your hands off me to strip you of your sweatshirt; I catch a whiff of your sweat, the woods, and it makes me hungrier for you. I can see your nipples peaked beneath the thin T-shirt, and give them a quick pinch, grinning ferally at your growl.//

Randy:         Fuck, it feels good to touch you... wanted to do this all day·touch *this*·//I squeeze your ass once, groaning hoarsely when you pinch my nipples again. I slide my hands down to pull your sweater up over your head.// I want to touch you, Michael. Lick you, taste you, eat you·all of you. //It takes only a moment to get you to raise your arms, and to yank the sweater up and over your head, baring you to the waist. I dip my head and lick from your neck to your chest, then down to one erect nub, circling it with my tongue before latching on and sucking it into my mouth.//

Michael:       //I give a strangled cry as you suck at me; it sends a bolt of electricity straight to my groin, and I jerk, and throb fiercely. I thread my fingers through your hair to hold you there; it feels wonderful, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. It does no good; the sound escapes me anyway, and I give into it, closing my eyes and savoring the steady pulling suction, the occasional scrape of teeth.// Randy...Caro...bed...let me take you to bed...I want to feel you naked next to me...

Randy:         Soon, darlin'. Naked, together in bed...yes. But I want to taste you, Michael. Head to toe, all cracks and crevices. //I rub my fingers harder against your cleft and smile against your breast when you give a quiet moan. I lap furiously at your hardened tit, flicking it with my tongue over and over again, the sweetest lashing known. My cock is throbbing against my jeans, and I can't wait to free it, to stroke it while you fuck me, but I'm not giving in to that yet. I want to savor tasting you; my mouth is watering at the thought of it. I bite down very gently on the tiny, throbbing nub and shiver when you groan for me, your fingers tightening in my hair.//

Michael:       God, yes...//I shudder, hard. I want your touch, I want *you*, and it's strong enough to drive thought out of my mind. I release my grip in your hair, and drop both hands to fumble at my jeans, making soft, frustrated sounds as I struggle to get them undone. I sigh with relief as I jerk them open, and give a little shimmy to peel them down, kicking off shoes, stripping off socks, then out of the jeans and the boxers, leaving me naked before you, my hardened cock thrusting out at you, needy.// Do it. All yours...

Randy:         Oh, man, Michael...//I slide myself down to kneel before you, letting my hands caress your belly, your thighs, your ass. I look up at you; your eyes are hot with hunger, dark with need, and I can feel myself burning inside just as hotly. I stroke over your cock slowly, not lingering, just caressing, then reach to cup your balls. My tongue paints a trail over your abdomen, down into the bush around your cock, then over the shaft, up and around the head. I slide your foreskin back and slip my mouth over you, taking you deep on one stroke, before letting you slide back out. I probe at the tiny, leaking slit with my tongue tip before releasing you; the flavor is darkly erotic and stirs a terrible hunger in me. I rock back on my heels and lick my lips, my voice smoky with arousal.// You're delicious, darlin'. //I grin wickedly up at you.// Had the appetizer·now's the *meal*.

 

Michael:       //I'm almost dizzy, and shaking with hunger. I can't ever remember being this aroused by the simplest of touches; my breath catches in my throat in a sob as my blood goes molten. I can't think, only feel hunger for you, for the touch of your hand, for the warm wetness of your mouth, for the brush of your hard body against mine; it's voracious, overwhelming. I find my hands clenched in your soft dark hair, and I make myself release you, swaying before I can broaden my stance to try and keep my unsteady balance. I lick suddenly dry lips, and swallow hard.// Touch me..

Randy:         //I settle my hands on your thighs and push you backwards, my tongue lapping at your cock, breathing hotly over it// Sit down, darlin'. I'm gonna make you feel something so good, you'll never forget it.

Michael:       //I take the two steps backwards beneath your urging, and sink into one of the overstuffed armchairs flanking the window, the smooth upholstery cool against my burning skin. I stare at you, your dark eyes promising untold pleasures, and open my legs, looping one over the armrest. I run my fingers through the soft hair on my chest, pausing to circle aching, hard nipples, before continuing down the arrow of hair to my throbbing, aching erection, which was growing slick with want. I stroke gently, almost afraid to touch myself, afraid I'll lose control, and reach down to cup my balls in the other hand.// Don't brag about it...let me see if you can live up to a promise like that...//I scarcely recognize my own voice, low and husky with need.//

Randy:         //I flash you a hot, hot grin that speaks volumes for what I think of my ability to live up to that promise, and lean forward toward you, nipping, licking and sucking at the tender skin on the insides of your thighs. Your legs quiver when I move toward the top, inside, and I smile against your flesh as I slide my hands under you, cupping and spreading slightly, encouraging you with soft noises to shift forward for me a little. I run my nose slowly along the crease between your leg and body, breathing in deeply the thick, musky, sweaty scent of you here. It's like being immersed in a pool of your scent; surrounded and cocooned. I lap eagerly at the skin, wanting to taste this scent. My fingers dip into your cleft, rubbing lightly, one trailing through the slickness of the sweat pooling there. I shift against my pants, my erection enormous and aching for freedom.// 

Michael:       //My breathing goes uneven, ragged, and my heart pounds a rapid tattoo. I can't believe how exciting it is to see you kneeling between my legs, feel the brush of your tongue and the scrape of your teeth, the inquisitive fingers tracing so teasingly along tender skin, tracing erotic designs on my flesh. I shift a little, and sling my other leg over the other armrest, opening myself completely for you, spreading myself wide.// Unbutton your pants, open them up. I want to see you, too.

Randy:         //I let go of you with one hand and reach down to yank at the top button. The button-holes are worn, and give without a fight, already strained from trying to keep closed around my erection. I fist myself slowly as my tongue continues to wander over you, finally sliding down the curve of your leg to where it becomes your ass. With a small moan of delight and want, I slip my tongue along the edge of the shadowy crevice. I pass by your opening the first time, and you wiggle slightly above me. My mouth smiles against your skin as I let my tongue wander up and down the slick crack, then to return to circle lightly over the tight bud there, wetting it slowly with my tongue. I can hear muffled moans and soft cries, but I'm not sure which one of us is making them. I flicker my tongue over the small, tight hole, and shudder at the dark, earthy taste that floods my mouth.//

Michael:       //I can't stay quiet, and moan with each exhalation. The touch of your tongue there sends me rocketing into the stratosphere. Everything brightens, sharpens, each sensation more acute than anything I've ever felt, slicing along nerves like a razor. I try and stretch myself wider, give you more access, desperate to feel you lick me there, the pleasure intense. I make my hands grip the armrests, fingers digging into the upholstered softness, to keep from seizing your hair.// Please, Caro...lick me, fuck me with your tongue...please....//A part of me is horrified that I'm begging--I never beg for anything. But the greater part, the one overwhelmed by passion, doesn't care...to have you touch me like this, the most intimate of kisses...I'd do almost anything...//

Randy:         Yes...//I breathe the word quietly against you, feeling you quiver from the heat of my breath.// Relax, Michael. Let me taste you; let me show you how good it can be... //I slide my tongue over your flesh, a broad, long sweep that wets you, the caress a hot, lasting one. I can feel the small pucker relax fractionally against me, and repeat it, laving you over and over again as your body loosens and relaxes for me. My free hand grips your cheek, holding you open the rest of the way, and lick you slowly, tracing the pattern the puckered flesh takes. Each tiny trace relaxes you more, and at last, moaning myself with anticipation and hunger, I place my mouth over the budded opening and kiss you, sucking lightly as I slide my tongue slowly into the most intimate part of your body, tasting you as deeply as possible.//

 

Michael:       //I let out a yell, muffled at the last moment. My entire body goes into overdrive, sensation crashing through me. I writhe and shift beneath your attentions, unable to stay still, seeking to impale myself on the hot, wet tongue sliding into me. Desperate to increase the pleasure, the sensation, I pry one hand off the armrest, lick the palm, and begin to stroke myself in a rough, irregular rhythm, matching the sweet invasion of your tongue. I can hear myself, hoarse pleadings for more, endearments, odd fragments of Italian. I'd only had one lover to do this, and I'd forgotten how devastating, how overwhelming it could be. I feel stripped down to the essential man, driven by need and desire, willing to do anything to keep this sweet torment going without ceasing. It had been good with him; it was a hundred times better with you; you give me this gift because it pleasures you as well, not for any other motives.//

 

Randy:         //I shudder when your voice reaches me; hot, unintelligible words, moans and whimpers and cries. I let go of your leg as you tilt yourself even more, and blindly reach my free hand up to bat your hand away from your erection, lifting my mouth for an instant.// Hold yourself open for me, darlin'. //Your hands are shaking a little when they reach down, but I'm not sure you're aware of anything but what you're feeling right now. I stroke you with long, slow strokes, then bury my face in the heat of your body again, wanting to taste more of you now. I pause for a moment and suck on the small, spasming hole then thrust my tongue deeply inside, fucking you mercilessly. I fist your cock and my own faster, increasing my hand motions to keep up with my tongue. I pull back slightly and nip at the sensitive skin of your perineum, then nibble the rigid folds of tissue that cover the muscled entrance. Your body is opening to me, slowly, like a flower blooming, petal by petal. I abandon the nibbling and suck you again, then plunge my tongue back into the hot velvet of your body, my hands working both of us almost frantically now.//

Michael:       // My body has abandoned itself to pleasure, rational thought whiting out under the onslaught of pure sensation. I buck upward into your hand, and then press downward, trying to get your busy tongue deeper within me. The need to release, to give myself over to the blessed relief of orgasm, is strong, overpowering, and I listen to its seductive voice, giving in to it. I can feel it gathering strength within me, and know that when it hits, it will strike with the force of a runaway train. I pant harshly, trying to gather together enough of my brain to tell you, to warn you that I'm almost there...// Ah...close, Caro, so close...almost...

 

Randy:         //Your words burn into my brain, and my cock leaps within my hand. I pull back to lick lovingly around your hole for a moment, then whisper hoarsely// Come for me, Michael. Come on... lemme feel it·//I impale your writhing body on my tongue, shoving it as far up into you as I have length to go, shuddering with you when you jerk and cry out. My hand wrapped around your cock is beginning to ache a little, but I jack you faster, gripping you tightly, letting your foreskin aid me as it slides up and over you to the rhythm of my hand. My own cock is so close to erupting it's leaking continuously, adding its moisture to my friction. I wiggle my tongue fiercely inside you, pushing deeper and deeper, ignoring the spasms moving through me as your body tries to clamp closed. God, you taste so good...I groan harshly as my cock stiffens, then spurts, sending shudders rippling down and through me.//

Michael:       //It's too much. Orgasm slams into me, drawing my hips upward into your strong hand, pumping furiously until I howl and release. I can feel it spurting strongly from me, and the sensation is incredible, pure, blinding agony/ecstasy, pulling me higher and higher, until it snaps, and I slump back down, completely limp, almost insensate with satiation.//

Randy:         //I give a muffled cry when your body clamps around me, then tongue you faster, keeping pace with the shock waves rolling through your system and mine. My hand on my cock jerks, then slows as my orgasm pumps out of me. I slide my hand up under you, holding you closer to my mouth as I pump your cock through the initial burst. I let my tongue slide from your body as you begin to relax and loosen, and gently lick your small, open hole, moving upward then to lick and suck gently on the hot, still quivering flesh of your cock and balls, cleaning you up. Nothing arousing, or meant to be, in these caresses; just easy, gentle touches. I place a soft kiss on the tip of your cock, then shift up to lean against you as I slowly lick the fingers on both my hands, cleaning me of your seed and mine. I rub slowly against your leg, loving the heat and soft/hardness of your body, and smile at you// That was incredible, Michael. *You* were incredible. You taste so good, darlin'... I want to taste you over and over again.

Michael:       //I think I've been electrocuted; small shocks continue to zip along my body. I sprawl laxly before you, boneless, sweating, panting, eyes closed. At your soft, whispered words, hot with promise, I open my eyes and look at you. You're flushed, and completion, satisfaction, shines from you, a soft glow like candlelight. I have to work to do it, but I raise my hand, and run a shaky finger over your sweet, giving mouth, catching a small, lost drop of fluid from the corner--whose? Mine? Yours? Ours? With a soft moan, I slide first one leg down, then the other, and you rub with gentle hands at the stretched muscles and tendons, until the ache eases. It's a thoughtful, kind gesture, and it only makes the warmth I feel for you grow stronger. I smile at you, smoothing away the dark hair from your eyes.// God Almighty·I don't think I've ever·ever came like that·//I laugh weakly.// You keep your promises·I'll not forget that·.//I trail off, knowing I can't begin to express how you've made me feel, how absolutely and completely you've satisfied me, how the blood is singing, thrumming through my veins.//

Randy:         //I keep rubbing your thighs and calves, stroking slowly up and down, long after I need to. Touching you is such a pleasure, even just easy stroking like this. Your body is loose and relaxed from the orgasm, but I can see the energies gathering in your eyes again. We're not done, not by a long shot. My own body is reminding me that its been hungry for a long time, and that it believes you to be able to feed that hunger, and the more my fingers glide over you, the more inclined they are to linger, to touch more purposefully. I lean my head against one thigh, breathing in your scent, smelling the heat and sex between us, before shifting to kiss your thigh. I place a long string of kisses up the inside of one firm muscle, ending with a sharp nip on the very inside, just beside your balls. You jump, your fingers in my hair tightening, and a low, breathless sound comes from you. I grin and rub my face against your leg, letting you surround me.// You feel good, Michael. Taste good. All of you.

Michael:       //It's been a long time since I've been with anyone--a very long time since I've had anything other than the comfort of my own hand and fleeting erotic thoughts to help me tumble over the edge into orgasm. I'm not surprised when your touch, your nearness, the hot, hungry look in your green, green eyes makes my own hunger leap and rise, stirring my flesh. The relaxation I'd felt tumbles swiftly over into tension of the sweetest kind. I take your hand and place it over my cock, moving it slowly over my skin, a light, easy movement. Your hand is strong and warm, and feels good there.// We're not done, Randy--not by any stretch of the imagination. You kept your promise...now its time to keep mine.

Randy:         //I nod, feeling the length of flesh in my hand filling, hardening. Your hand is guiding mine, slow, easy strokes that feel as good to me I think as they do to you. You give a little moan and shift, and my stomach tightens, thinking of you inside me. I lean in again and lap at the underside of your balls as I stroke, whispering against your skin.// Gonna hold you to it, darlin'. I don't wanna walk tomorrow. //I lick up, teasing my tongue around the base of your cock.// Wanna feel this gorgeous prick buried in my ass balls-deep. //I slip one finger up the length of your crack and cup your balls, feeling my own cock blooming into full arousal.//

Michael:       //I hiss, and bite my lower lip as sensation stampedes through me. Tender, just a little sensitive, but that only adds to the building ache. Leaning my head back against the chair, I let your touch carry me higher. It would be easy to pull you on top of me, to take you in this roomy chair big enough for the two of us. Heat lashes through me at the thought, and I feel myself grow even harder in your hand. Perhaps later. I laugh, breathily, and close my hand around yours to stop your slow, intoxicating movements.// Oh, you shall, Caro. You'll feel me so deeply inside you you'll be able to taste me as I fuck you. //I open my eyes again, and look down at your face, flushed and heavy-lidded with desire.// I want you in my bed this time. On your belly, or on your back--I don't care. But I want back inside you, and soon.  

Michael:       //If I thought I'd been aroused before, it's nothing compared to the wildfire that races through me now. Standing before me, ready, erect, teasing me by stroking yourself. Teasing me by the soft, husky half-whisper of your deep voice, sliding over me like liquid heat. I shiver, but it's not from chill. In a moment, I'm out of the chair, arms sliding around you, pulling you so close I can feel your heart pounding against my chest. You meet me halfway, mouth opening for mine; our teeth click together with the strength of our need. I can feel your cock dig into my belly, slick and hard, then slide along mine, and I moan deep in my throat.

I'm not sure if you drag me, or I drag you, but somehow, mouths locked hungrily together, hands clutching, we make it from the main room back into the bedroom. I bark my shin on the doorway, but it's only a peripheral sensation, easily dismissed. You lie back onto my bed, pulling me atop you, and I pull my mouth away from yours to draw deep, ragged breaths. Your hands are everywhere--stroking my cock, kneading my ass, raking through the hair on my chest to pinch my nipples, and I gasp as you nip me, just beneath the collarbone, and latch on, sucking hard. It passes through my mind that you're making a *huge* lovebite , but I can't make myself care, too caught in the whirlwind of your hands and mouth, the searing heat of your passion to do other than rub myself against you, your strong legs wrapped around my hips.//

Randy:         //After the fiasco this morning, I have this inexplicable desire to mark you in some way, as if I could show the world that *I* was the one who was with you all weekend. That I left my mark--literally. That I'm half insane with wanting you is another matter altogether, and one that I'll gladly admit to. I can't stop the small growls that fill the air around us; I want to taste all of you, touch all of you, all at once. When I release the spot I'd marked, I scoot myself a little lower, and run my tongue over one nipple, laughing against your hot skin when you jerk and shudder as I latch on. You're hot, so hot and sweaty, and I can feel your cock pressing into my belly, leaving wet trails against me. I bite down gently on your tight nipple, then suck the bud into my mouth again, my body throbbing at the sounds coming from you.//

Michael:       //I grunt out loud at the bite of your teeth on my skin; you're not gentle, and your hands will leave marks, as I'm sure my own shall. But god, it feels good to be with someone as strong, or stronger than myself. Pleasure, pure and fiery washes over me, and it takes a massive effort of will to push against you, to push you away; I don't want to come outside of you again, and it's getting close enough I might. I sit back on my heels between your wide-spread thighs, catching my breath, collecting myself, but its impossible not to touch; I run my hands up and down your inner thighs, dipping in to slip my fingers down behind your balls, caressing and pressing against your perineum, feeling your excitement mount higher the more intimate my touch becomes. I know the grin that slashes across my face is hungry, and wolfish.// I want to hear you when I fuck you...want to hear you scream with pleasure...

Randy:         //I wiggle a little bit, arching my back to try and encourage your fingers down further; I haven't been this excited for someone in a while, and it feels *good*. I can tell you're not going to hold back; the look in your eyes could incinerate right now. Your words are as exciting as your touch, and I know my grin matches yours for hunger. I bring my hands up to pinch and stroke my nipples, playing with myself under your hot, hot gaze. You tug on my balls and I open my legs wider for you, panting lightly now.// God...yes... make me scream...Michael... Do me hard, do me fast... make me *feel* it... //I feel so wanton, writhing on the bed with your eyes on me, and I wet my fingertips before pinching and caressing my tits again.//

Michael:       //If I paid heed to my body, I'd be inside you, pushing against you, into you, in a heartbeat. But my mind brings up the memory of how tight you'd been last night, and even though I'm starving, ravenous, I can't hurt you. With a throttled curse, I turn away long enough to fumble in the bedside table and get out the bottle of lightly-scented oil. With shaking hands, I open it, dumping it into my hand, spreading it on my fingers, over my palms, until I'm slick. One hand goes up to encircle your cock, and your body rises into my fist with a fierce cry; the other slips down to press against your ass, a finger sliding deeply into your body.// Move...let me see you move...show me how you'll move on my cock...

Randy:         More--! //I gasp, feeling your finger slick within me, but knowing its not enough. I'm burning up, I'm so ready, and your hand on my cock is only fueling the fire. I shift my body, moving my hips so that I'm fucking myself on your finger. I shudder when you withdraw it and press two into me, rubbing oil on the inside of my channel.// Fuck me, Michael... I don't want fingers...want your *cock*, goddammit... Ah, darlin', I'm ready for you... You know you want it...wanna sink that thick, hard dick inside me...C'mon...*do it*. //I clench my jaw and rock down harder, tightening my body around you, moaning when you jerk me faster.//

Michael:       //I can feel the sweat trickling down my temples, my neck, snaking down my back and sides. I pump you once more, leaving your slick, shiny, and red, and then pull my fingers from your body. My hands go around your hips; it's hard to hold on, but I manage to pull your ass up onto my thighs. You wriggle helpfully, eyes black with need, your hands going to grasp my cock, to guide me in, and with a low groan, I push against you, a long, slow slide into the heated depths of your body.//

Randy:         God....yes....*shit*....//I push against your cock, forcing my body to open, to let you in. You're almost too slippery; I have trouble holding onto you, and you to me. But oh, god, it feels good... I groan when you stop for a minute; I'm not sure if you're giving me a rest, or taking a minute to regain control of yourself, but in any case, I don't want a rest. I want *you*. I shift again, locking my legs around your back, pulling you closer.// Do it...do it, Michael...all the way, darlin'... don't stop...

Michael:       Feels...so good...//I grip you as securely as I can, and rock hard against you. I can watch myself move in and out of you, hear the wet sound of our flesh, the sounds you make, smell the scent of man and sex, raw and primal. Your cock bounces against your belly with each hard thrust, and you reach to fist it, the red, slick flesh popping in and out of your grip. It's all too incredible, too overwhelming, and I close my eyes and fling my head back, concentrating on the feel of your body clasping and clutching around me like a hungry mouth.//

Randy:         //The visual of you with your head flung back is almost more than I can take. My cock is slipping in and out of my fist, hot and ready. It would take so little right now to send me flying, but I don't want to come just yet...wait a little longer... I want to feel you inside me for a while... I grunt when you slide across my prostate, my whole body tingling. Your head snaps back down and you fix me with a stare hot enough to melt plaster.// Harder, Michael... fuck me...harder... can't walk...tomorrow...

Michael:       //Your words push me over the edge, and I move harder against you, thrusting without restraint, letting the passion, the hot, hot need taking me. God, it feels so good...// I'm...I'm going to come...//I can feel it gathering within me, feel it growing stronger, demanding release.//

Randy:         *Yes*...//It's a whisper; that's all I can manage right now. I can feel my belly tightening; the heat inside me coiling within. I fist my cock harder, faster, the oil making me slip and slide inside the tight tunnel I've created. Your hands are holding me tight; I can't wait to see the small, finger-shaped bruises I know are going to be there later. Evidence of our passion; something to linger. I rock harder up against you, flexing my anal muscles around you, holding you and squeezing you.// I'm ...gonna...watch me...Michael... its for you...//I bite down on my words, groaning when my body spasms and my come spurts out. Ohgodohgodohgod...!//

Michael:       //I have one moment of watching your seed spurt upward, splattering over your belly and chest, before my eyes close, and I'm coming myself, one last, hard thrust into your body, my own shuddering as I feel myself pumping my own seed deeply into yours. I bite off the harsh groan, panting as I fold down slowly to lie bonelessly on your belly.//

Randy:         //I let you lie there for a moment, both of us panting too harshly to do much of anything. When I've regained a measure of my breath, I lift my arms slowly, wrapping them around you, holding you tight against me. You feel so good; it felt so good to have you coming inside me, hot and wet. You looked incredible, your face drawn up, your body tense and tight as you pumped into me. I shiver once, when a random breeze blows over my wet body, raising goosebumps. God, what a feeling; hot and cold, all combined. I love it. I could die a happy man, right now.//

Michael:       //I can feel myself soften and begin to slip from you; you give one last convulsive shudder as I leave your body, almost as if you're reluctant for us to separate. I feel weak as I slip my arms around your waist, and rub my cheek against the soft skin of your belly. I can smell your sweat and your seed, and a small, contented sound comes from me as we shift into a more comfortable position.// That...that was spectacular...god, what a feeling...

Randy:         //I settle comfortably against you, enjoying the solidity of you, the strength in your body. My body feels relaxed now; still humming and throbbing a little, but nearly glowing. I shift onto my side a little, raising one hand to stroke over your face, then your chest.// Man...that was incredible. //I kiss your throat.// Worth waiting and hiking for, I think. //I let my eyes twinkle at you, then kiss your lips once.//

Michael:       Most definitely worth waiting for. Perhaps there might be something to this self-denial business after all, if it nets you something this spectacular. //Your soft laughter blends with mine, and I relax against you, face snuggling into your neck, my arm and a leg looping over you in sweet familiarity. It isn't long before I hear your breathing grow slow and even, and all the tension drain from your body, and I fall asleep with a contented smile.

Sometime in the night, you wake me again, and the scent of you, the warmth of your skin and the skill of your hands bring me back to wakefulness, and hunger. This time you do scream into the pillow, strong hands knotted into the covers, hips pumping hard into the sheets and back up against me as I take you on your belly, as I'd promised. Afterward, you tuck yourself against me, sweaty and humming with happiness, and I wrap around you again. I hadn't realized how much such a simple thing could mean, to have the warmth of someone against me, curled so trustingly next to me, how much I'd missed it. Always a tactile person, I pet you as you fall asleep once more, running my hands over your fine, strong body. It calms me, soothes me, and before much longer, I fall asleep myself, tangled in your embrace.//

 

*************************

 

Randy:         //I wake up at an hour that I would generally consider absolutely abnormal; all I can see of the sun--or sunrise--is a faint dusting of pink glowing across the sky. My stomach is rumbling and growling loudly, apparently not thinking that a mouthful of semen constitutes good nutrition. It twists a little with that memory, and I shudder in reaction. God, you were incredible. Whether letting me have my way with you, or having your way with me, it was all fantastic. Even now we're still twined together, legs all ajumble. It's been a while since I woke with someone, much less curled all into them like this, and it's a nice feeling. I stroke one hand down your back, loving the strength I feel in your body, and grinning at the slightly sticky residue there. Sweat, semen, all dried and plastered to both of us. I wonder if we're stuck together. I shift a little, needing to stretch, and you pull away to curl onto your other side, muttering and mumbling in your sleep. I wince when I do get out of bed to stretch; you kept your* promise as well. And while I can still walk, I'm very definitely *sore* this time. Still, it's a good ache, and one that I welcome. I stand there for a minute, looking down at you, wondering what we'll do after this weekend. See each other sometimes? Never again? That thought sends a curl of panic through me, and I squash it down hard. Not an option, so far as I'm concerned. I only hope you feel the same way.

I head into the bathroom to piss and wash up, then pick my way quietly out to your living room and kitchen. I can see the sun coming up stronger now, and my eyes slide to the clock. 6:30. I must be insane. I don't think I've ever woke up this early on my own. Not even for sailing. Still, I feel oddly refreshed, rested. I grin and start picking through your refrigerator and cabinets, assembling an easy, cold breakfast that can wait in the fridge if necessary, then pour us both tall tumblers of juice before ambling back to your bedroom with them. You're sprawled on your belly now, and I settle on the bed next to you, and run one finger down the groove of your spine, before kissing you where your back dips to become your ass.// Mornin', darlin'.

Michael:       Mmmm...morning. //I'm wide awake; I'd known the moment you got up. At first, I wasn't sure if you were going to pull a disappearing act; it wouldn't be the first time it had happened, to wake and find a lover already gone. But somehow, I knew you wouldn't do that, and I was very pleased when I heard you moving about the kitchen, the doors opening and closing, the sound of juice or water pouring. Then you were back, carrying juice, placing it on the bedside table before sliding in next to me and placing a sweet kiss to the small of my back.

I could feel your hand, broad and strong, running over my skin in a caress that I couldn't help but move against. My whole body feels starved for touch; I'm pleased with even the smallest touch, and I'm surprised at how I could have gone so long without it. You smell of my soap, and your mouth is cool at first as it moves up to place a little kiss to my left shoulderblade, then the point of my shoulder before moving away to offer me one of the glasses. I stir, moving a bit more slowly than before, and sit up, propping myself against the headboard, folding my legs beneath me before taking the glass.// Good morning, Caro...at least, I *think* its morning....

Randy:         //I snort lightly.// Well, I'm not so sure of it myself--I didn't personally think it was possible for me to be up this early. //I give you a grin, then gulp about half of my juice down, admiring the strong line of your throat when you do the same. You're a beautiful, beautiful man, and I feel so--at ease--with you. Maybe because you seem to just want my company; you're not expecting me to *be* someone. I reach out and stroke one finger over your left nipple, teasing the tip gently, my grin turning to something a little hotter.// Yesterday was incredible, Michael. And last night... //I shake my head, the memory of screaming into the pillow while you pounded into me enough to make my blood stir again.// Wow.

Michael:       //I actually think I blush; my cheeks feel warm. I *never* blush, and will it away. Your simple assessment is more pleasing than any amount of flowery flattery could have been. And quite true.// It was very *wow* indeed. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. //My fingers drop to trace over your hip, where I can see bruises I'd left in my passion.//

Randy:         //I look down to where you're touching; I'd been right--I have bruises, shaped like your fingers. Something about those is so erotic I shiver once before setting my hand on top of yours. I lean over you and set my now-empty glass on your night-table; I could probably easily drink another two or three just like that, but opt for a different kind of drink instead. You taste like juice when I settle my mouth over yours, my tongue teasing at your lips and tongue briefly before I draw away. I'm half-hard already, my body not seeming to know that it probably shouldn't take any more for a while. You're stirring; not hard, but I can see your cock is fuller than it was a few minutes ago. That neither of us woke with full-blown boners is probably a tribute to exhausting ourselves last night.// So, darlin'. //I kiss your neck.// How do you want to start the day?

Michael:       //I tilt my head back to allow you room; I've always loved having my neck kissed. Your mouth is soft and warm, kisses moist and sweet, trailing over to my ear, then down to shoulder. I can't help the shiver that works over me. It's wonderful. Your hands run lightly over my chest, pausing to tweak hair playfully, or to impudently pinch a nipple; I can hear your soft chuckle against my skin. I know you must be sore this morning; I wasn't gentle, but you seemed to like it more the harder I thrust against you. Not that particular pleasure, then. You're compliant, and willing as I ease us both back down, and slide over you, beginning my own campaign of long, sucking kisses to your sweet mouth, to your neck, your shoulders. You shift and move beneath me slowly, your hands tracing over me, in a way that makes me squirm happily against you.// Taste. I want to taste you. //I run a thumb over your nipple, then lick over it and fasten my mouth over it to suck at the tender little bit of flesh.//

Randy:         Ah...god...oh, yeah... //I can't stop the groan and arch that follow, and my fingers tighten on your nipples, pinching a little harder. I love feeling your mouth on me, your hot body against mine. I shift, letting you lie more atop me, and run one hand down your back to tease at the cleft between your ass cheeks. You bite gently on my nipple and I jerk, groaning again when I hear you laugh, low and dark, against my skin. I whisper into your hair,// I like it rough, Michael... go on, darlin'. Do whatever you want. I'll tell you if it's too much.

 

Michael:       //I know you like it rough; the muffled cries I heard last night were of pleasure, not of pain. I can feel the quick rush of sparkling sensation that shoots straight to my groin as my memory conjures up the sounds you made, as my body remembers how you strained so hard against me, seeking to get me even deeper within your body. I lick and nibble down your belly, hands moving to spread your thighs for me. Your navel is a sweet distraction for a moment, and I bite it gently. I can feel your cock stirring against the skin of my throat, and I feel an answering stirring in my own flesh. You have bruises over your hips, and I kiss them before nuzzling into the soft, smooth skin of your groin.//

Randy:         Ahhh...//I thread my fingers through your hair, loving the way the strands feel so soft sliding against me. Your breath is warm on my thigh, and I spread my legs further for you, urging your head gently down. You lick all around my balls and dick, not sucking, just teasing me with wet little touches until I'm writhing under you, muttering hoarsely.// Suck me...wanna feel my cock in your throat, Michael...wanna come there...

Michael:       //You taste clean, and you're warm, almost hot where I touch you. I let my fingers wander down lower as I suck first one of your balls, then the other, in the way I know feels good to me. From the soft sounds that come from you, it must feel good to you, also. I'm fascinated by your smoothness; I love how it feels against my lips, how it makes you look even more masculine, bigger than you are, how it makes this act even more pleasurable than it is. And I do like it; it's a sensual feast of touch, scent, taste, and sound. You're growing restless, and I relent, licking up the long length of you before sucking the plump, broad head into my mouth.//

Randy:         //God, it feels good... to have me inside you like this; to feel your mouth on me. I wiggle, wishing I could touch you, too, and content myself with gently guiding your head. I thrust once or twice shallowly, but you have a strong gag reflex, and I don't want to ruin this for you. Let you go at your pace. I shudder a few times, then let go of your head with one hand to run it back and forth over my chest, pinching my nipples hard, pulling and tugging on them, feeling the sensations pushing me higher, closer to the edge.//

Michael:       //I wish I could take you in all the way, but in spite of practice, I've never been able to deep throat anyone; it would be impossible to take you down, given your size. I've never been one to whom size really mattered all that much, but you are impressive, and if you topped, you'd be an incredible experience. A reflexive shudder moves through me at the thought of having you cover me, having you moving within me, and for a moment, I wish it were possible. But its not, and probably never shall be, even if you were inclined to want that. I pull off your flesh with an obscenely wet sound, licking up and down your length, making you wet for the fist that encircles you and begins pumping even as I suck the head back in. The fingers of my free hand slip down lower, to rub against the opening of your body.//

Randy:         Oh! Ohhh...Mmmm...//I can't decide if it hurts, or feels good, to have your fingers touching me there. I can't remember the last time I was so tender...or that I had so much fun getting that way. Pain isn't always painful though, and this isn't even that. Just an extra zing to add to the overall sensation. I wiggle a little, shifting my legs up and pulling them open, shuddering again when you poke harder against my throbbing hole. When one finger slides inside, I give a strangled sound, arching against it and your hand.// Michael...*God*...!

 

Michael:       //Ah. I slip two fingers in, aiming for that spongy little place deep inside. I know I've found it when you jerk hard against me, and I keep thrusting against it with my fingers until you're thrashing hard beneath me, until the sounds you're making become frantic, until I feel your cock harden even more in my mouth, until I know nothing can stop you from coming for me.//

Randy:         //I can't stop the frantic thrust-up-and-thrust-down motions, onto your fingers and into your mouth. Your hand there acts as a buffer and a guide, so I don't choke you, but I can feel my belly tightening, all the blood rushing to my groin. If my dick was any harder it'd probably break off. As it is, I think its going to explode, and I groan harshly when the first spasm boils up out of me.// Michael...coming...I'm comin', darlin'... ohgod...

 

Michael:       //I pull back enough to keep you from gagging me with your last thrust; I've not been quick enough in the past, and the results have been highly unsatisfactory and very messy. Your come is slightly bitter, but with a sweet undertaste, easy to swallow, and I do, sucking gently on you to get the last bit. When you collapse back bonelessly, breathing hard, I slip my fingers from you, and lick over you, cleaning up the little trickles that escaped. I kiss my way up your body until I can capture your mouth and share your taste.//

Randy:         //It takes me a few minutes to recover from that, and then I shift so that you're full atop me. I wrap my legs around you and hold you close to me, rocking and shifting under you until you take the hint and start rubbing yourself harder, stroking your leaking cock against my belly. I kiss your neck, then tilt your head to one side so I can lick and suck up and down the full length, pausing to flick my tongue over your ear when I whisper.// Its not quite the same as fucking...and if you want inside I'll take you, darlin'. Wanna feel you come... wanna feel you all over me.

Michael:       //I shiver as you nip and suck, and your low, husky voice sends a thrill down my spine. I rock hard against you, your hands on my ass guiding me, urging me on.// Yes...feels so...fucking good...//Primed by your scent, your taste, by the heat of your body and the strength of your embrace, it doesn't take long to reach the edge of climax and tumble over it with a long, low moan, feeling my seed pulse from me, spreading hotly between our bodies.//

Randy:         Ummmm...that's it...come for me, darlin'... Shoot all over me... //God but its exciting to feel you hard on me, with your juices spreading out over me, between us. Warm and wet, a little sticky... I reach one hand in between and swipe my finger through it, then bring it up to my mouth to taste you. You're still bucking and grinding against me, and after I lick my finger off, I pull you closer to kiss you, to share the taste of your seed like you shared mine.//

Michael:       //I truly enjoy kissing you, though it's hard to do at the moment, breathless. You give yourself over to it completely, reveling in sensation, a sensualist. No matter what we do together, it's good--you're completely with me, responsive, almost as if you were made for me. I shake off that thought--it's ridiculous--my mind tends to let odd thoughts slip through in the sweet haze after orgasm. I can feel myself getting drifty, and before I realize it, I've let myself drift into sleep. When I wake again, its late morning, and I'm alone, curled into the blankets. I can hear the shower running, and the splashing sounds you're making, so I've pinpointed you. Rolling over, I stretch luxuriously, grimacing a little when muscles remind me I've not used them for awhile. I'm sure that if I could see the smile on my face, I'd be shocked at its sated stupidity. But that's all right--I don't care. My blood hums pleasantly through me, and I roll out of bed, pulling the messy sheets off and tossing them in the hamper; by the time you emerge from the shower in a pair of sweatpants, hair damp, skin pinkened, I've made the bed fresh, and am ready for my own shower.// Good morning again, Caro....

Randy:         //I give you a cocky grin.// Not for much longer... Almost have to make it 'afternoon', now, darlin'. But good morning to you, too, Michael. //I press myself against your back and nuzzle your neck. I've already figured out that this is a highly sensitive spot for you, and you confirm that yet again when you shiver in my arms. I grin; I haven't been this happy and satisfied in... ages. In bare feet you definitely are taller than me by a bit, but we fit together pretty well. Amazingly well. I wrap my arms tight around your waist and squeeze for a moment; not hard enough to take your breath, but hard enough to *feel* you, your strength and warmth pressed to me. I whisper into your ear.// It felt incredible to wake up with you, man.

Michael:       //I let myself relax into you. Broad, strong, so alive. I like how you fit against me, and if I analyzed it, I probably like it a little too much. It would be so easy to become accustomed to feeling you close like this. No, best not to think like that; obviously, higher reasoning is still snoozing away. I pat your arms, clasped loosely around my waist, then turn to press a kiss against your neck. I'm sure I have dragon breath, so I'll not kiss your mouth.// Incredible is a weak word for it, Randy. It needs something...stronger. //I grin at you as my stomach growls in protest.// I'm not sure about you, but I think I'm starving. I'll be a moment in the shower, and we can find something to eat, all right?

Randy:         //I laugh and back away from; you have to be itchy and uncomfortable, I know I was when I climbed into the shower.// I already took care of that, darlin'. You go on, get cleaned up, and I'll get it all set out. //My own stomach rumbles agreeance with this, and I grin at you.// As for a stronger word... I'll think on it. Not sure the English language contains one. //I don't like to think about *how* good you felt against me when I woke up, because its a moot point after this afternoon. Unless something happens and we see each other again, which I'm not ruling out or in at this point... but it still won't happen again right away. I sigh, a little more serious now, and pat your ass.// See you in a few.

Michael:       //It doesn't take that long to shower off; though I have a tendency to linger in the shower, I don't today. I shower, shave, and brush my teeth quickly; I have a muted sense of urgency, as our time together is rapidly slipping away. I look at my reflection a moment, fingering the huge red lovebite on my collarbone, the many small bruises scattered over my body. Reminders of you and your fierce joy in our passion. Even after you're gone, I'll still be reminded of you. I feel vaguely unsettled, and rapidly dress in a loose T-shirt and sweats before padding out into the main room to find you.//

Randy:         //I've set breakfast out. Not much; I found some fruit in your refrigerator, and a couple bananas that I sliced all together; you also had some English muffins that I toasted for us. I poured some more juice, and had that ready, as well as water boiling for you. You look good all showered and clean, but I've come to the conclusion that you look good, period, because I felt that same funny tug at a strange spot in my belly when you were grimy and streaked with sweat and come, as I do now. I'm going to hate leaving here in a few hours. Funny, how I've gotten so accustomed to being with you in just a short day or two.// Hope you don't mind me rifling through your cupboards. I found some tea and put it on to boil for you--actually, I found several...but, Earl Grey okay, I hope?

Michael:       Fine, Caro. I appreciate the effort. //I press a kiss to the top of your head as I pass through the dining room to the kitchen to rescue my teapot. There's a comforting ritual to making tea, one I've never, in all my travels, given up. I rinse the teapot with hot water from the kettle, then pour more into before stepping back to the table. You've placed my plate close to yours, and I smile as I settle into my chair, knees rubbing companionably with yours. I place the teabags into the pot and let it steep as I butter a muffin, and pop a piece of banana in my mouth. After that, I pour my tea, and add a splash of milk and a cube of sugar. I look up to see you watching my little ritual with amusement, and I grin again.// Creature of habit, I suppose. No rituals for you?

Randy:         Well... //I pause in my chewing and consider.// We broke my habit this morning when I was up before the sun. As far as that though, coffee is my ritual, and I didn't see any. No big deal--I'll survive without it. Sex seems to work just as well. //I wink at you, then grin.// I'm usually a "whole-pot-in-the-morning" kinda guy, but you seem to have jumped, er, jumpstarted me pretty well.

Michael:       //I grin wickedly, then stop to suck strawberry preserves off my thumb.// Rather a nice way to begin the day...and to celebrate midday...and to end the day.

 

Randy:         Works for me, darlin'. //I look outside; it's a rather typical morning for San Francisco at this time of year. The sun is shining and has burned off most of the fog and haze outside. I stretch one barefoot out and stroke it up over your calf, remembering what footsie yesterday had led to.// Whatcha want to do today? Go out? Stay in? //For a half a moment I consider being very polite and offering to leave if you need me to, to get anything done for the week. Then I change my mind; fuck it. I'll leave if you need me to, but I'll be damned if I'm going to offer. I find my eyes drawn to the clock resting on the cabinet nearest the table, and its like time has become our enemy.//

Michael:       //Conversation is easy, just chatting about this or that, nothing deep, all the superficial things you say to a person you've just slept with. We take everything back to the kitchen, and I was going to leave it for Miles, but you begin to clean up, so I shrug and follow your lead. I'm beginning to feel a little awkward, for some reason, and it takes me a moment to figure out that it is because I really don't want today to end, and end it must. I can see the glances you take toward the clock, and I wonder if you're getting restless, wanting to go home. I put on some music, and open the door to look for the paper; evidently Miles had left it at doorside, not daring to even knock to announce himself. That's something we'll definitely discuss tomorrow, as well as have a chat with Erich. But that's tomorrow. We curl up on the couch to read the paper, with you at one end, and myself at the other, sharing bits and pieces of it back and forth. Your feet are never still, teasing me, tickling me, and your eyes behind your glasses glint with mischief.//

Randy:         //I discover that you have a ticklish spot just where your ribcage ends, toward your back, and shift so I can reach it better with my toes, stroking lightly under the T-shirt. You shift and wiggle, trying to get away, but I'm not letting go so easily. Much as I want the quiet time with you, I want more, and I can feel the minutes beginning an inexorable slide toward time to go. After tickling and teasing you for a few minutes, and suffering with you swatting my feet away good-naturedly, I set the paper down and pounce, covering you with my body. I don't lie fully on you, rather I support my weight on my arms, but I do cover you, rubbing slowly as I stroke your lips with my tongue, then mutter softly.// Don't have to have sex...but wanna kiss you, Michael. Love kissing you.

Michael:       I think I can help you out with that. //The paper is scattered everywhere as you pull it from my hands and give it a toss. I don't mind; I truly like this. Your body is heavy and warm on mine, and I spread my legs a little to let you settle even closer. You taste of strawberries, and a warm flavor that can only be you. I slip your glasses off and fumble them onto the table, then concentrate on kissing. I spend a long time at it, sliding along rough/soft tongue, slick teeth, velvety cheek. You make soft sounds of pleasure, sounds that match the ones coming from my own throat. Eventually, I shift us over to our sides, trapping you against the back of the couch, and you melt against me. Your hands are never still, and I feel myself harden at your fleeting touches, the press of your muscular body into my own. I'd forgotten how good this could be, simply for its own sake, instead of as a prelude to more serious matters. I kiss you until we're both breathless, until my body burns and aches, until I can feel your hand slip down my sweatpants and caress me, and I pull away with a start, breathing heavily, looking into your eyes, dark and soft with desire.// Incredible, what you do to me....

Randy:         //I can't breathe, can't think, can't make myself coherent. You feel so good against me, your cock hard and throbbing in my hand. I kiss under your jaw, nipping very lightly at the tender skin there, then licking over it with long, slow laps of my tongue. I wish... Well, I don't know what I wish. I feel kind of confused, actually--I haven't reacted this strongly to anyone in longer than I can remember. I shift, settling myself closer; stroking you slowly, lightly, letting my thumb ease over the tip of your cock, rubbing at the tiny fissure there. I can feel faint beginnings of moisture, and a shudder rips through me.// I didn't mean... to get it here... Michael. I...shit. Just wanted to kiss you, but darlin', you make me so *hungry*. Fuck. //I groan when you surge into my hand, and my own cock feels full, hard, my whole body tight. I lick over to your ear to mutter hoarsely.// Can't believe I could still *get* hard, but you got me wantin' it again...

Michael:       You're very...inspiring. Make me feel like an adolescent again... //I slip my hands down the back of your sweats, molding and squeezing your ass, pulling you up tight against me. I slip a finger over the entrance of your body, stroking lightly, absorbing your shudder.// We don't *have* to do anything...//I capture your mouth and kiss you until I can't breathe.// This is good...sweet...//I bury my face in your neck and suck, matching the rhythm of your hand on my flesh.//

Randy:         Just...yeah...ummm...//I pant softly into your neck, rubbing back against your hand. Instinctively I try to give you more space, and I shift, throwing one of my legs up over yours, fitting us together. I stroke over your cock, reaching down to cup your balls, then bring my mouth back to yours, whispering.// This is...fantastic...like making out with you... //I press my lips harder to yours, urging you silently to open, for more kisses, groaning when you do. This is beyond good; it's hot, fiery, and so wonderful.//

Michael:       //I pull my hands from beneath your sweats, bringing them around in a wide, sweeping caress that covers your ribs and your belly. I can feel your muscles contract and move beneath your skin. Such lovely skin, so soft and warm, covering long, strong muscle. Nothing feminine about you, all hard masculinity. The only thing soft about you is your wide, beautiful mouth, so sweet, so capable of giving me incredible pleasure. I pull away from your mouth long enough to suck your full lower lip into my mouth, nibble gently on it. Your breath is hot, and quick, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my hands. I rub my palms over your nipples, over your pecs, feeling the little nubs grow hard. Your hand closes around my cock, giving me a squeeze, and I shudder against you. I can feel the push of your flesh against my belly, hot and firm, and you rock into my hip, little motions that I match. Moving my attention up a little, I lick up your neck, suck on your earlobe, then rim your ear before whispering huskily into it.// You taste so good...feel so good beneath my hands...and god, the sounds you make...I think I could come from that alone...

Randy:         //It's almost too much, this gentle getting-lost-in-pleasure thing we're doing. I let go of your cock and push your sweats down a little, and push your T-shirt up, so I can rub my hands all over your chest and belly, mimicking what you were doing. The hair on your chest is a constant lure, and I tease my fingers through it, enjoying the soft, breathy whispers and lower grunts and moans you're making. I keep my own voice low; its rough and scratchy, hardly sounds like me.// This is...this is so good, Michael... I could stay here...like this...forever... //I shift my head again, my mouth searching for yours, my lips wanting to taste you again. Your body is strong, hard beneath my fingers, and its such a largesse of sensory delights. I stop stroking with my fingers and switch to the palms of my hands, rubbing roughly over your nipples, laughing low into your mouth when you moan and arch toward me.//

Michael:       //The balance of power shifts back and forth easily between us, giver and receiver. Most of the time I get pleasure from giving it, not willing to let someone else take control, but I find I can relax, and accept your kisses and caresses like no other I've slept with. There's no...distance...with you--you're too focused, too intense, too demanding. You make me stay with you instead of drifting off someplace else and simply going through the motions to get to the fleeting, incredible pleasure of climax. Even now, as if you sense my thoughts slipping away, you pull me back, make me focus as your mouth settles over one of my nipples, and you suck at it, varying between hard and soft suction, between long, slow licks of your tongue and the sharp pleasure your teeth can bring. Oh, it's good...I curl into you, needing more, my cock throbbing in time to your mouth sucking at me.//

Randy:         It's good... to know we can do this slow, too... //I whisper against your chest before scoring the tender nub with my teeth again. You groan and arch toward me, your fingers grabbing into my hair. I slide one hand slowly down your back, 'til I can cup your ass, rubbing and kneading at it through your pants, drawing you closer. I suck your tit harder, lashing it with my tongue while I keep the suction steady, then release it with a slick, wet sound. It's red and hard, standing up totally erect and swollen. Like your cock pressing against me. My turn to lick up to your ear, to tongue it while I whisper.// Gorgeous... //lick//... sexy man... //lick//... you make me so hot...//lick//...make me crazy for you... //I bite gently on your earlobe before kissing back to your mouth and pressing kiss after kiss on you, long, slow, deep kisses to leave both of us breathless.//

Michael:       //I've never been one to talk much in bed, and the way you do, the soft, sexy tones of your voice, the promise of your words, seems to go from my ears straight to my cock. When your grip on me shifts, I move away far enough to strip off my shirt, giving it an indifferent toss, leaving my chest as bare as yours. Pulling you close again, I can feel the warmth of your skin, the press of your hard little nipples on my own chest. I know you like the hair on my chest, and I rub against you like a cat marking his owner, then lay a series of light nips from ear to collarbone. I want to taste you, to imprint you on my memory, to remember when my bed is cold and lonely once again. I want to be able to conjure up your scent, your taste, the feeling of your hands on my skin, the softness of your mouth beneath and over mine. I slide down further, licking and nuzzling every centimeter of skin I can reach.//

Randy:         No...//I groan the word, then shift, pulling you back up level with me, tight against me. My body is aching, loving the slow-building, incredible heat we're producing here. A level of arousal so high, so strong, you have to work at it, work up to it. // Here, darlin'. Kiss me... kiss me again and again... I wanna drown in 'em, Michael. //I'm getting swept away into an undercurrent of desire and lust that's going to overwhelm me shortly. You whimper once--or is that me?--when I scratch my fingernail over your nipple, pressing it down and pinching it when it stands up for me. It's like a drug; like drowning; like dying a slow, satisfying death that ends with total rejuvenation and rebirth. I can't stop kissing you; I don't want to. I want to sear you, your taste, how you smell and feel, into my brain, so I can have something to keep me company tonight...when I don't have you. I whisper your name, a low, ragged moan of a sound, and press my mouth to yours tightly, letting my tongue swirl through your mouth.//

Michael:       //You won't let me taste your skin, but I can still touch, stroke, caress, pinch lightly, and so I do, until I'm sure I could draw a sensory map of your body. I open my mouth wider, sucking on your tongue, then flicking mine against the roof of your mouth, the softness of your inside cheek, the satiny slickness of the inside of your lips, the hardness of your teeth. Your body strains up to mine, and I can feel the sweat slicking our skins. With a grunt, I roll over mostly on top of you, trapping you halfway beneath me. I know in the back of my mind I have no chance of holding you here if you don't desire it, and that adds a little spice to the sweetness.// You make me so hungry...//My voice is hoarse and deep; I scarcely recognize it. I press kisses to the sharp line of your jaw, nibble on your earlobe, slip my tongue into your ear.// Never...never had anyone...anyone make me so hungry...

Randy:         //Are you psychic? How could you know that's what I was thinking? Its startling to hear my thoughts voiced aloud. I take your hand and draw it between our bodies, rubbing your fingers over the erection straining at the fabric of my pants. Yours is just as hard, and I shift our hands back and forth, petting both of us as I nip and lick at your mouth, at your lips, whispering huskily into your ear,// You make me...starved, Michael. As much as I've had you... the more you touch...the more I want... *feel* me, darlin'... hard, ready... its all for you... all because of you... //I shudder and bury my face in your neck, my words hoarse against your skin.// If you're hungry, darlin', you should feed...

Michael:       //I capture your wandering hands, hands that leave trails of fire over my skin, and bring them up, pinning them to the soft, overstuffed arm of the couch as I shift more completely over you. You're bigger, broader than I am, and can take my weight easily. As I slide over you, bringing our hips into alignment, my fingers closing more firmly about your wrists, you make a pleasured sound, then bite your lower lip, eyes half-closing, leaving only a glitter of green behind the thick length of your lashes. I rub my chest and belly against you, and I can feel the slickness of sweat between us, and even through the layers of sweats, the hardness of your cock next to mine. It feels like a little bit of paradise to cover you like this, to feel you writhe beneath me, seeking the sweetness of pressure against your cock. I dip down to kiss you, and your mouth opens willingly, avidly for me, hot and voracious. I can feel my own flesh leap in response; I would kiss you and rub against you all day, if I could. But I want more than this simple pleasure, great though it is--I want to be buried deeply within this sweet body that's given so much, just one last time before we separate. When I have to pull away to draw a deep breath, I kiss my way to your ear and whisper// I want to be inside you...want to feel you come on my cock...want to come buried deep within you...

Randy:         //Your words go straight through my ear, and down my nervous system, I swear. I can feel the shudder that ripples through me; it's reflected back through you. I grind upward against you, pushing against your hands holding me pinned, but not pushing hard enough to get away. I don't want to get away--I love this. You're big enough to hold me--unless I *really* didn't want to be held--and that's a major turn-on. I wish we had more time together; that the weekend wasn't on the edge of being over. I groan and arch up, my mouth seeking yours, kissing you over and over, mindless, wanting your taste. I shift my legs, wrapping my calves around your thighs, holding you tight against me. It makes me stretch a little more, and this time I groan when I shudder, making me pull away from the heat of your mouth.// How--do you want me, darlin'? Take me right here...on the couch... or on the floor... whatever you want--wanna feel your cock pounding inside me, Michael.

Michael:       //I laugh, and it comes out a little breathy. I cross your wrists and give them a little squeeze to indicate to you I want you to keep them there before trailing my hands down your arms, over the firm, straining muscles there. Your hips rock up against mine, and it feels wonderful. I kiss down your throat, loving the sound you make as I do, then sprinkle more kisses over the sharpness of your collarbone, before burying my nose into your armpit; you're hairless here also, skin smooth and soft. Your scent is fresh, good, unique, and washes over me; I can't resist the urge to nuzzle and lick there, and you squirm beneath me as my hands feather over your chest and ribs.//

Randy:         You play dirty, darlin'... //I shiver, feeling goosebumps break out when you tease and tickle me again. God, it all feels so good; I've died and gone to heaven. Or maybe I went a while ago, and I'm just still there. Whatever it is, I want more of it. I rock my hips upward, moving against you. You laugh again, against my skin, and this time my voice is thick, husky.// Fuck me, darlin'... make me come...burn me up, Michael.

Michael:       //I laugh with delight against your skin, nipping and pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against your chest, sucking over a nipple as my hands move down over your belly and hips, sliding beneath your sweats, moving them downward over your ass, down until your cock nudges out, hard and hot, to rub against my belly. A soft sound escapes me, one of pleasure and anticipation, and I begin to kiss slowly down your body, feeling you undulate beneath me in a way that makes my blood burn.//

Randy:         //I shift, dizzy with increased arousal, and raise my hips to help you pull my sweats down. I didn't mean to go here, I swear I didn't, but I can't stop the heat that's moving through me at the thought of feeling you inside me again, at least this one last time. I shiver with that thought, and decide to not even consider it until we're done, because I don't want anything ruining this. I undulate against you again, rubbing myself shamelessly against your neck. I can feel myself, still loose, so hot, wanting you.// Michael... do it, darlin'... //I want to reach down and pull you up to me; I'm not sure what stops me--except you seem to like me with my arms up like this. I visualize restraints for a minute, and the shudder that rips through me nearly sends me over the edge.// *Fuck me*.

Michael:       Oh...I shall. //I pull back, kneeling between your thighs, and tug the sweats from your legs, dropping them into the floor. You have such a beautiful body, firm and strong, and I don't think I'd ever tire of it. I let my hands trail over your inner thighs, and your hips surge upward, seeking my touch. It would be so easy just to take you into my mouth, to lick and suck until you came, but I want you to come while I'm deep inside. I trail a finger up the curve of your cock, and circle the wet crown, then pop the finger into my mouth, tasting your bittersweet flavor. Your eyes have gone black, only a thin ring of green around the depthless darkness of pupil.// I want you on your knees. Kneel up, face the back of the couch, spread your legs, and offer me your ass. //I scarcely recognize my own voice, deeper and full of need, and my body throbs fiercely with hunger as I shift back to allow you space to move.//

Randy:         //Ohhh-*Fuck*. Why *now*? Why didn't you do this yesterday, when we could have explored more of that? I'm shaking, hard. It takes me a minute to coordinate my legs and arms into something resembling motion, to make my body work. I want to--something. Bow and kiss your feet? Kneel before you? Offer you worship? I shake my head briefly to clear it--I don't know how that would go over. For all I know, you just like a little bit of spice in with otherwise vanilla sex... I'm not going to risk what we have right now to find out something that's not going to matter in another couple of hours. Still, my gut twists when I look at your eyes--there's something there. I move myself into the position you--ordered--and shift, spreading my knees wide, then pushing my ass out toward you. I can hardly make my voice work, I'm so excited. Its hoarse, husky, I can almost hear the throbbing in my cock resonating there.// Fuck me...please... It's yours--take it.

Michael:       //I slip off the couch to stand behind you, admiring the lines of your body, the sweetness of your compliant submission, as I stroke myself through the layer of sweats. Leaning forward, I move your legs a little further apart, then take your arms and spread them over the back of the couch, so your face lays on the wide back, and your chest against the smooth leather. Perfect. You're fully aroused, your cock swaying heavily between your legs, and positioned this way, you can't rub against anything, your pleasure completely dependent upon me. You glance back at me, and lick your lips; your whole expression is one of consuming sensuality. Incredible, that you offer yourself to me like this, so freely. I strip out of my sweats, stroke myself again, then kneel up on the leather behind you. I press a kiss to your lower back, then another to the nape of your neck, feeling you shiver beneath me, my cock rubbing between your cheeks.// Going to fuck you so hard, so well, you'll never forget me...you'll always remember my name with pleasure...

Randy:         //I'm just about beyond the ability to speak, or think coherently. You've positioned me... just so. I want to ask you a thousand questions, but I won't, not now. I lick my lips again and nod, then settle my head against the softness of the couch, arching my back a little, pushing my ass out further to increase the angle. I don't know if you can hear me mutter; the pulse pounding inside my ears sounds like the roaring of a volcano before explosion--an apt comparison, I think.// Will *never* forget you...or this...god, Michael... //I wiggle my hips for you and shiver again when I hear you groan. When you stroke your cock slowly up and down the crack of my ass I whimper, feeling my body pulsing hungrily. You're teasing me...sonofabitch it feels good. When you rub yourself over my loosened hole, I clench my jaw and rub back, shuddering.// *Please*, Michael...

Michael:       //I pull back as you push against me, trying to get me inside. Your body is warm, almost hot, and I know how much hotter you'll be sheathing me. I smear my own precome over the crown of my cock, place myself at your entrance, and begin to push, letting out a low moan of pleasure as I feel and watch myself sink into your welcoming body.//

Randy:         *Yes*...yesyesyes...//Pleasure. Rich, hot, totally encompassing, and its moving through my body at the speed of molasses on a cool, frosty morning. A long, slow slide of heat all around me as you push in. It hurts, too; I can't remember the last time I was this tender, this well-used... and shudder as the pleasure and the pain mingle, merging into one overwhelming sensation that wants to swallow me. Your hands are warm on my hips, smoothing, kneading over sweaty skin, stroking downward to open my cheeks. I know you're watching yourself, and I groan again, wishing I could see that--see you sliding inside my body. I clench the couch, or try; the sweat on my fingers makes the leather slippery. Hot scents, hot sounds, all around us--the physical presence of arousal, of *sex*. I blow out a long, deep breath, relaxing, letting the pain strengthen, then shift into an exquisite pleasure, balanced on the edge. You give a low grunt and slide fully into me, and I answer it with one of my own, fumbling one hand back to twine my fingers with yours, holding your hand, helping to hold myself open.//

 

Michael:       //I'm sweating by the time I'm fully seated within you; I can feel it slither down my neck, then down my spine. You're so tight, so hot, that I hold still a moment to keep from spilling my seed. I press a kiss to the nape of your neck, another to the soft, salty skin just beneath your ear. I want to give you pleasure so intense, so encompassing and complete that you'll remember me for a very long time. Leaning forward, I whisper in your ear// Beautiful...I'll remember you, remember *this* when I touch myself...remember how you feel, how you smell, how you sound when you come...

Randy:         Oh, lord... //I didn't mean to speak aloud; I'm not sure I did, except that I can feel the vibrations through my body. I said something at any rate. God, just the *visual* of you laying in your big bed, thinking about us, about me, jerking yourself to the memories... My own cock throbs deliciously, in time with the way yours is throbbing inside me. My asshole feels like its on fire; my pulse is beating fiercely with each small muscle spasm as you move in and out of me, and its too much of an effort not to give in to the urge to move against you, to moan out my pleasure. I can hardly breathe for the heat that's moving up through my chest; when I come, its not going to be a big offering, but its gonna rip through me like a hurricane. I can *feel* it. I grip your hand tighter, the sob in my throat coming out in the form of your name; a supplication.// *Please*, Michael... do it... make me come... make both of us come...

Michael:       //I wish I could draw this out, feel myself sliding in and out of your body, clasped by strong muscle and moist heat forever, but I know its not possible. We've drawn this out for so long, indulged in so much foreplay, that I'm consumed with you, with the need to come. God, it feels so good, so incredibly good to thrust into you, and with a moan, I begin to move against you, harder, faster, the sounds of our flesh smacking together loud in the quiet of the room, overridden by the moans and pants of our pleasure.//

Randy:         That's it...darlin'...so good...ah, god, Michael...//I push back against you, my whole body twitching and shuddering. You're hitting my prostate on nearly every stroke, and the small gland is already tender and sensitive as well. It feels like electrical sparks shooting all through me each time you move across it.// Ahhh...yeah...shit, Michael... //I arch my back again, clinging to the couch as best as I'm able, feeling the groan that works out of me when it feels like you ram into my stomach.// Ohhh *Yeah*, again, darlin'... like that...pound me hard...

 

Michael:       If you want it hard...I'll give it to you... //I let myself go, moving harder, quicker, deeper, and I can tell by the sounds that escape you when I hit that sweet place within you. Holding you is like trying to hold onto a tiger, sleek and strong and feral. Your fingers close painfully on mine, keeping me focused, keeping me from losing it entirely. I slip my hand around your hip, closing my fingers about your cock; it feels like a velvet-sheathed iron bar, the head slick and wet.// So good...you're so hot...perfect...

Randy:         Oh...Michael... //I can't catch my breath for real now; the heat inside me, around me, moving through me is suffocating. I can feel the energies focusing, turning into something that's bigger than me, yet contained within me, and shudder over and over again as it builds. Your hand, your cock, your sweat dripping onto me. My own is burning my eyes, slicking between my thighs and down my ass, adding to the arousal I'm feeling. I can't last much longer; not with your hand jerking me in a rough rhythm to the pounding you're giving me. Hot, hard, fast--I asked for it, you're giving it to me. I'm *not* going to be doing much walking later, but damn its worth it. I flex, pushing back onto your cock, then forward into your hand, groaning with each hot, sweet stroke.//

Michael:       //I can feel it begin, sweet, intense sensation building, swelling, ready to break, to burst from me. Oh, it will be good, overwhelming, and I want you to be swept away with me. My hand moves over you faster, with more purpose, seeking to drive you to orgasm.// Come...come for me...let me hear you call my name...

Randy:         //You lean over and nip sharply at my neck then, your hand like fire on my cock. Oh, god, I've been dipped into electricity; pure, unfiltered, spine-bowing electricity. I stiffen when the first wave hits me, thrusting myself back against you, wringing a long, low cry out of you, and a sharper, harsher shout from me. I let go of the couch with my free hand and clench it around yours that's stroking me, shuddering and shaking as more waves--harder, faster, taking me higher--bombard me. Too much, ohgod, much too much, and yet too good to want to stop. I yell again, your name this time, knowing its going to be a long, long time, if ever, before I forget this weekend.//

Michael:       //When I feel your body convulse beneath my own, feel the tight squeeze of your muscles around me, I'm freed to let go, to come. It sweeps over me, making me explode like a supernova. I grit my teeth to keep from yelling, and so only a small sound escapes to mark my pleasure. When the last wave crashes through me, I melt against you, shaking, pressing you into the plushness of the leather couch. We're both wet with sweat, breathing as if we'd run a marathon, and I can feel your heart beating like a wild thing caught in a trap. I slide my arms around you and hold you tightly, my cheek against the nape of your neck, lost in the sweet wash of sensation that follows the power of orgasm.//

Randy:         //I shift, falling against the back of the couch, sighing with pleasure when you fall me, still plastered to my back. God, we're both dripping wet, and if my body ached any more I'd have to admit I hurt. But the whole thing is overlaid by a sense of satiation that rivals anything I've felt in... well, a long time, at the very least. Your arms feel so good around me, and I grip your hands tightly. It has to end, shortly, and I find I don't want it to. I don't want to go back to my lonely space. I don't know if we could have anything more--there's a powerful attraction between us--but it makes my stomach tighten to think about having this all the time. I give a soft snort, figuring we'd probably kill each other inside of six months--our bodies couldn't handle the pace we set this weekend. Ahh, but I'll enjoy your weight until I absolutely have to go. I let myself relax against the couch, my panting slowly easing to deep breaths, and silently will you to stay where you're at, for a little while longer.//

Michael:       //I'm draped over you, but you don't seem to mind, and it feels good, this fleeting connection with another. Eventually, I soften, and slip from your body, and hate the loss of connection. It has felt so good to be one with you, to not be alone for even a fleeting moment. I rub my cheek against your silky hair, kiss the back of your neck and withdraw, urging you to turn in my embrace.// Just a moment longer...

 

Randy:         //You feel it too, I think. That little bit of something... Or am I imagining things? I don't know, anymore. Do I want to stay with you for *you*, or for how you've made my body sing, this weekend? That's a sobering thought, considering what we indulged in was some of the unsafest sex I've ever had. I shift in your arms, sighing when you lay back, drawing me with you. We were here, just a short while ago, making out on your couch. And I have no doubts that if either of us thought we could physically do it again, we'd try. I know I can't, so I'll be content with holding you--with being held. I'm sure that my eyes are stinging from the sweat still burning them--can't be because I *really* don't want to be all alone tonight, after the closeness of the weekend. We lay there, kissing softly, short, easy kisses that are more just for comfort than for anything else, for a long time. I don't know how long; I think we both doze for a few minutes.

A bump against the window startles me awake, and a glance at the clock, however reluctantly, shows me its nearly 3pm. I shift a little, wincing. You kept your promise for sure.// Michael. //Your name comes out as more a sigh than I'd intended, and I kick myself mentally. You haven't said word one about wanting me to stay longer; why should I give you any indication that it's what I'd like? This isn't the time to consider being sentimental--we were two guys who shared a fabulous weekend of fucking--nothing else. I shift again, needing to sit up, needing air...needing something, and not willing to admit what that something might be.//

Michael:       //My body hums in with intense pleasure, though there are the small aches this has left me with--my jaw aches, my mouth is tender and swollen from kisses, and muscles from various points in my body protest dully. But god, what a sense of well-being floats through me. I've not been this well-satisfied for...ages. It's more than intense, incredible sex, it's...well, I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I like it. I've gone a long time without a relationship; any satisfaction I've gotten has been from my own hand or from those who were here only long enough to satisfy me, and I've not had even that fleeting illusion of companionship for awhile now. But this...this feels different, somehow. I'm not sure what to make of it, and the lack of understanding makes me more than a bit nervous.

A little voice deep inside me is sending out alarms of warning, urging me to pull back into more familiar territory; I've been more giving, more intimate with you than I have with anyone since Nicole, and the *ease* with which it happened is astounding...and frightening. I don't like the feeling of imbalance it gives me, the sense that I've lost some of my control over myself. A rational part of my mind tells me I'm overreacting, that I'm being foolish, but the need for self-protection overrides the rational part, and though the feeling of satiation remains, I can feel myself beginning to deny the closeness, the sense of companionship you'd brought to me. It's just sex, nothing more, nothing less, maybe more spectacular than most, but the fantasy of *rightness* or the feeling that you were meant for me is just that--fantasy. Nonna's idea of the thunderbolt, the idea that everyone at some time or another will be hit by that one great relationship, that one perfect person, flits through my mind, rapidly squashed. God knows I've been through enough relationships to know that's clearly a story for the romantic and weak--and I'm neither of those.//

Randy:         //Its here. I'd wondered if I would know that moment when it was time to go home--preferably before I outstayed my welcome. I don't want to part on bad terms. I'm not sure how we'll part...how do you, when there's nothing but a physical...well, not even a relationship. Two days isn't long enough to qualify as that. I can see in your eyes that you've pulled back some from what you willing shared with me this weekend, and I find myself doing it a little, as well. I can't let you get too close, because it wouldn't take much for you to get under my defenses--they've never been real strong, though I've increased them some in the last few years. I shift off the couch silently, and grab my sweats off the floor as I head for the bathroom. Funny, how at ease I feel here--though there's a sense of...discomfort...of tension...that wasn't present before now. Just now. Even the relaxation that came with that last orgasm has dissipated a little. I don't want to leave, I'm not at all certain I'd be welcome--or that I'd want, truly--to stay. I need space. Air. Some time to think about all the things you've raised in my head. I lean against the bathroom door for a minute before flipping the light on--I'm not ready to look in the mirror, just yet.//

Michael:       //I roll to my back as you climb over me and pick up your sweats without a word. Your back is very straight, and the line of your shoulders tense, so unlike the fluid bonelessness of just moments past. I wonder why, though a part of me is somewhat relieved. You move off to the bath, though not without giving me a quick glance over your shoulders, a look I'm not quite able to interpret--a mixture of resignation, regret, unhappiness, though it's gone so quickly I can't be sure. I fling my forearm over my eyes and lie there as I hear you pad off to the bath, and after a moment, hear the water come on. In my mind's eye, I can see you step in, see the water caress you, glaze the sculptured perfection of your body, sliding over you as my own hands did, so many times this weekend. If I were not so exhausted, so satiated, the thought would be enough to make my flesh stir. The urge to join you, to wash and rinse your skin just for the excuse to touch you, is very strong, and I swing my long legs to the floor and sit up, wrestling with the desire to be with you. Just as I decided to surprise you beneath the hot water and the steam, I hear the water shut off. Too late. I pick up my own sweats and tee shirt and shrug them on, not wanting to be at the disadvantage of being naked whilst you're clothed. A small sense of lost opportunities flashes through me, but I quell it ruthlessly.//

Randy:         //By the time I've toweled off and dressed, and gathered my few things up, it's getting on toward 4pm. I have a nervous, antsy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't want to leave; I can't wait to get out. I stood in the shower for a few minutes, hoping you'd come in; waiting for you, actually. I haven't even left yet, and I miss you...and how can I reconcile that? There was nothing said or done this weekend to suggest a permanence of any kind--and Lord knows I don't need to be starting a relationship right now. I also didn't need a weekend of nothing but sex--mixed with wonderful company--to remind me of how lonely I really am. I can tell myself I don't want a relationship...that I don't need one...but I miss having someone to hold. And the memories of you--as good as they are--aren't going to keep me warm at night.

You have the...oddest look...on your face, when I emerge finally, wearing my jeans and boots, and a pullover tee-shirt. I've found everything but a pair of jockeys, and shrugged those off. Underwear isn't a big deal. I wish I thought I saw something in those incredible, changeable, stormy-gray eyes of yours--something that might make me think I should say fuck it, and stay. But I don't--at least, not what I think I should see. Do you regret this weekend? I didn't think I did...but now I'm realizing all the things it's made me want again, if not with you, then with someone. I give you a game smile, trying to shove all my feelings way down where they can't get to me right now.// It was a hell of a weekend, Michael. Thanks--for having me over.

Michael:       //It's done, then. You're standing there, in boots and jeans, fresh from the shower, your hair still wet. I feel slightly vulnerable in my bare feet, and shake that off as ridiculous; the thought makes me feel slightly prickly. Even though I appreciate your casual distance, it also makes my chin lift a little in annoyance. Foolish, and hypocritical, as that's the very thing I'm seeking. I can intellectually understand it, but emotionally, it burns a bit. I try to smile, but it's no more than a lifting of one corner of my mouth.// A hell of a weekend, indeed. It's been...good. //I hate the hesitation, the generic blandness of "good," but to admit that I truly loved it, loved the feel of you next to me, beneath me, would be weak. I've done fine alone, and my life is simple and uncomplicated, just the way I chose. I don't want a relationship, I don't *need* a relationship, and somehow, in spite of the way we fell together, I don't think that you'd settle for much less than that. You're...special, and deserve more than I can offer you right now. Best to make a clean break of it, right here and now. It would be so easy to become attached to you, to truly like you, and I don't want to hurt you any more than necessary.//

Randy:         Good. Yeah. //I nod, not sure what else to say. What happened to the easiness we had all weekend? What happened to the man who looked at me with eyes so hot I still can't believe I didn't just incinerate? The cool gray that's looking back at me at now seems to be mirroring my confusion and unease, and I glance away. Hard enough to be *feeling* it, without having to look at it, too. Briefly I wonder if I'll see you again; I consider asking, but don't want to open myself up, to make myself that vulnerable. I feel the breath catch in my chest--an aborted sigh? Laugh? Sob? A mix? when I wonder what we will say or do when the day comes that we're looking at each other over a conference table, or in a lab, or something else. Will you smile at me--that odd little quirk you gave me all weekend long? Or just dismiss me--the way I think you want to do right now...but can't quite manage. I'm not sure what I want to do. I feel oddly detached, actually. I start to stick my hand out, and decide that's about the most ridiculous thing I've thought of in ages. You're leaning against your kitchen counter, and I look down suddenly, a genuine smile moving over my face briefly when I see your toes curling against the coolness of the linoleum. I step a little closer, ignoring the stab of...something...in my gut, and the strange light in your eyes, and kiss you once, briefly.// It was...good. G'bye, Michael.

Michael:       //I'd not moved when you'd leaned in, so very careful not to touch me, when you kissed me. Soft, sweet, and very final. No. As you pull away, I uncoil and curl one long arm about your waist, jerking you in closely. In my bare feet, and your boots, we're eye-to-eye, and yours have gone wider with surprise. I didn't expect this myself--it would have been better to part as you'd wished, almost impersonally. But that wild part of me that I keep so closely guarded asserts itself, and I can't stop the urge, the *need* to taste you one last time. My free hand goes into you damp, cool hair, tilting your face to the angle I wish, then my mouth covers yours, open and hungry and passionate. You stiffen a moment in surprise, but then soften and mold to my body, fitting perfectly against me. I know I make a deep, almost desperate sound, and I can't care. Just as your arms go around me, just as your legs part for my thigh to slide between them, just as I believe I could kiss you harder, deeper, longer, I make myself detach, my hands going to your biceps to push you gently away. I know the soft, shocked look on your face must mirror my own; I hadn't meant to do that. Your breath is warm and sweet on my mouth, and more firmly, I set you away from me.// Remember me....

Randy:         //I have to get the hell out of here. Get as far away from you as I can before I lose my fucking *sanity*. Where in the HELL had that come from? I know I'm staring at you; I can't stop it. I back up, slowly, nodding, my knees shaking. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*. I reach down awkwardly for the bag I don't remember dropping and fumble 'til I can grab it, not breaking eye contact with you. I can't. Not 'til I'm gone--and that's why I have to go. I swallow once, and its painful--my throat feels strangely tight. I nod once more, my voice more of a whisper than anything else.// I will. //I hit the wall behind me, and turn, groping for the door, a strange panic moving over me. Gottagogottagogottago... Goodbye, Michael.//

~finis~

 


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